


Frayed seams

by Merakimi



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Bisexual Jongin, CEO Sekai, Chanbaek? - Freeform, Diva Kibum, F/M, Fashion & Couture, JuunJ. fashion, Kaistal is cute okay, Korean Fashion week, M/M, Nohant fashion, Rivals, Smut, Stripper Tao x Bartender Kris, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Suho is Jongin's rich and soft hyung, Tabloids are a bitch, TaoRis - Freeform, Top Oh Sehun, kaistal - Freeform, lingerie and handcuffs are involved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2019-10-11 20:23:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 107,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17453669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merakimi/pseuds/Merakimi
Summary: Smoke curls from Sehun's lips, words slip off his tongue as he offers a game; play the fake tabloids with their fame, two CEOs to spit spice at one another for show.Of course, fire burns on camera, but flames always tend to soften in the shadows.





	1. Rivals

Junmyeon opens the grand doors to a cacophony of applause and flashing lights, officially opening Seoul’s most famous New Year’s Eve party. His smile doesn’t falter during the entire thirty minutes of greetings of guests. They all glide out of Porsches and Ferraris as they ascend on the velvet stairway to the entrance which shows only hints of gold and diamonds behind Junmyeon’s dazzling smile. They leave the shuttering cameras behind to be enclosed in the warmth of plush material and 

Jongin knows every second of these parties like the lines in his favorite suit. He’s grown so accustomed to Junmyeon’s events that he’s even asked for to choose the decorations every now and then. He knows the guest list too - every model, every CEO, every company by name, address and personal preferences. There are rarely irregularities in the list. However, when there are, they never disappoint.

“Oh Sehun? The head of Nohant fashion?” 

“Jongin, you should work on keeping that disgust out of your voice, it isn’t classy. And yes, the young man has gotten quite the name for himself recently. But of course, you seem to already know that.” Junmyeon hums as his fingers skim the marble stairway. 

“You just love the stories that come from these parties - they all feed your fat ego after all. Inviting my newest rival? That’s low Junmyeon.”

“Now now Jongin, no need to hiss at me. You two have never seen eachother anyway. Consider this an opportunity to assess your competition’s weaknesses as well as his talents. I’m merely doing you a favor.”

Jongin scoffs, but he knows, he knows too well, how Junmyeon is always, always right.

“Whatever. But if things go to hell, don’t blame me for butchering your fashion style in my newsletter.”

“Suit yourself. Find me in the lounge to apologize later.”

~

Jongin eventually does meet up with the Devil himself - modeling off a brilliantly dark suit with his trophy-date clinging onto his arm. Oh Sehun, manager of Seoul’s newest company "Nohant", rumored to be Jongin’s biggest rival in the fashion industry yet. When Sehun finally sees him, he scrutinizes Jongin, assessing every weakness that Jongin doesn’t have to offer when the latter strides over to greet him.

“Kim Jongin, in the flesh. Almost as fine as all the rumors, surprisingly.” Sehun drawls over a glass of liquor, jutting out his chin just slight. Holds himself like a prince - pale and proud. 

Jongin chooses to relax his posture. No reason to show himself as piqued over the comment. He offers an easy smile. 

“Pleasure is all mine. I hope I rise up enough to the pitiful gossip magazines. Nohant is doing well, I hear. How does it feel to be invited to Seoul’s richest party of the year? Junmyeon is always careful choosing his guests.”

“I’m touched, really. Gives me a chance to scour out my newest competition.”

Jongin nods. “I see your confidence has been boosted since this invitation. Don’t let it get all to your head, however. I’ve also been known to do some pretty stupid mistakes while leading my company to the top.”

Sehun’s only acknowledgment is a hum. “Word has it you’re working on a new project. Think you’ll be able to top last year’s autumn line? It was quite the legend.”

“I’m flattered. And my projects are only legends waiting to be replaced. Innovation never ends in the industry. I merely lead the pace, and crown the best.”

Sehun’s date decides to take a jab at the game, “Your models seem to be lacking this year. Krystal, I thought you’d dropped out?” Sehun’s date narrows her sharply lined eyes at Jongin’s date. Krystal holds herself straighter and sneers.

“Please, only low-life would read and believe media trash. I value my position in the company more than you value your outdated stilettos.” 

Jongin masks his grin behind his glass when Sehun cuts off his date’s horrified reply. 

“The media is the worst source you can believe.”

“Oh please Sehun, you feed off those stories like a fucking IV.” Sehun’s date is livid. 

“Of course he does. Rising companies have a raw image - ready to be butchered and hacked to pieces by the media as soon as they smell fresh blood. We’ve all been there. Don’t worry, it passes once you actually get famous.” Jongin dishes a sweet smile. Sehun’s lips threaten to twitch into a sneer.

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Jongin. While you may be Seoul’s highest-esteemed company, I had enough power to raise Nohant from ashes to your side in half of the time that you took to fully develop Juun J.”

“These drinks must be spiked with self-esteem, because it’s useless to fantasize by saying you’re at my side. Nohant is still brushing my ankles.” Jongin waves at a passing waiter to pour him half a glass of scotch.

“I’d watch your tongue if I were you. It brings bad luck to underestimate competition too easily. And I can assure you that I don’t play easy, Mr. Kim.” Sehun straightens his tie.

“Oh trust me, I’m eager to see what challenges Nohant has in store for me as it turns fantasy into reality.”

“Time advantages the freshest. Blink twice, and I’ll be right in front of you.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to sleep with my eyes open then.” Jongin grins and drinks the liquor. It burns his throat but he can’t really grasp half a mind to care when his apparent rival stares at him with an imposing pride. It’s mesmerizing. Pale, chiseled like marble, thin lips set into a strangely hesitant line. 

“You two seem to be doing just fine by yourselves, and I fully intend on getting drunk tonight. Oh, Minji just arrived. I heard that her date was at least fifty years older.” Krystal peers through the lavish crowd despite her height. Jongin places a kiss on her temple before slowly removing his arm from her waist.

“Alright. Have fun. You know where to find me later. Let me know if you need a ride home. ” 

She nods and politely inclines her head to Sehun, completely ignoring his date’s glare. 

“You’re welcome to join her Seomin - I do believe that judging people is a model’s favorite pastime.”

Seomin scowls in response and Sehun has the nerve to chuckle. “You should learn to smile more often. It’s the easiest way to hide your feelings and to make people still like you. Modeling should teach you that too-”

“Fuck you Sehun, I didn’t come here for you to lecture me. I’m leaving.”

Jongin suddenly feels uneasy intruding on the small bickering. He decides to ask a passing waiter about the crackers when Sehun’s face hardens. “You and I both know you wouldn’t do that to your precious image, but you’re more than welcome to go see Sunghee over at the garden. Take a breather. I’ll meet you later.” Seomin frowns and turns on her heel, stalks off into the crowd.

Jongin chews on a small pastry in silence when Sehun faces him again. He huffs.

“Models huh? I would diss them if I wasn’t one myself.”

“That would explain the ego.”

Sehun smirks, “You can’t thrive in a ruthless industry with a weak heart. It’s built off fake compliments and hidden slander. The secret is to know which to take seriously, and which to mock.” He speaks, tongue rich and precise.

Jongin lowers his glass in a slow movement. “Well well. It seems as though I have underestimated you. You clearly know your way around quite well enough. Maybe I might just blink twice and see you two steps before.”

“I figured you were bored - all alone on your golden pedestal. I only hope to be a worthy rival. Of course, you won’t blame me if I were to accidentally steal your crown.” Sehun smiles for the first time that night - pearly whites glinting like chandelier crystals. Jongin chuckles. 

“How dear of you to worry for my occupation. I guess my golden pedestal is sometimes a little flat - it could be considered as interesting to have a challenge.”

Sehun sips his drink, a smirk playing on his lips. He plucks a pistachio from a revolving bowl on the table, rolls in between nimble fingers. Jongin lets himself fall silent for a minute. Sehun’s suit has the color of a velvet cake - rich and dark, lined with diamond cufflinks. It’s obviously tailored just for him - the way he fills every crease and manages to showcase its every value as though it were a fine cut ruby. 

There’s a compliment on the tip of Jongin’s tongue, but he bites it back by knocking back the rest of his drink.

Jongin catches Junmyeon at the corner of his eye, and the image reminds him of something to try out.

“Taste one of these.” He grabs a various tray from the table and urges Sehun to pick one of the small appetizers. “Tell me which season they remind you of.” Sehun quirks an amused brow, but compiles. He takes his time chewing silently, eyes never leaving Jongin’s expectant ones. 

“Which season? I’d say summer. Fresh and sweet, like you’re lounging in Greece with the sun on your face and the ocean at your feet. 

His voice is deep and washes over Jongin’s palms like a summer song. His answer is pleasing. Jongin hums and pops one into his mouth. They’re little olives stuffed with various spices and lime. Sehun was right. 

“If you could make this flavor into a dress, how would you design it?” Sehun continues the game so effortlessly Jongin would have suspected an intervention from Junmyeon had been at fault. Jongin grins. 

“Nice try. But company designs and styles are top classification. It’ll take more than a stuffed olive to pull secrets out of me.”

“What, scared I’ll steal your idea? Would have been a nice opportunity, I’ll admit. But if you’re my rival, what kind of match would I be if I simply copied your style? It would be too obvious and clumsy. No - now I’m merely returning you the favor of a question.” Sehun gestures at a waiter to pour him three fingers of a cocktail, eyes always trained on Jongin. 

Jongin twirls a business card between his fingers. Sehun was very, very interesting indeed. Held his esteem at the highest rank, and deemed his associates no less worthy. Jongin is fascinated. 

He carefully places a second olive in his mouth. Sehun’s expression eases into an approving satisfaction. Jongin closes his eyes as he chews, focusing on every taste-bud to shape material and color into his mind.

“It’s a long dress, crepe material flowing at the ankles, folding carefully all the way up to the bodice to wrap around the neck. It’s carefree and loose, open-backed and speckled with red on the degrading dark blue. It’s for elegant beach parties, only to be worn barefoot, toes curling in the sand with acoustic guitar in the background. When you dance in it, it hugs the hips but the seams flare and ripple with the wind and smoothes beneath your fingertips.”

He opens his eyes again, and finds that Sehun is staring at him with a completely open yet unreadable expression on his face. Almost like he’s impressed. Mesmerized. 

They stay silent. Sehun finally speaks.

“I’m impressed. No wonder you’re the king of the fashion industry. It’s like you’re talking about a Picasso.”

“Fashion is a form of art and emotion.”

“And you master the paintings so well.” Sehun raises his glass, and Jongin feels pride creep into his neck. He offers a genuine smile, and they clink the crystal and call for a round of martinis. 

~

They escape the suffocating perfumes and red smiles by the means of an open balcony. They had been practically choked with fake embraces and praises, even earning the snarky remark about the two “rivals” spending the evening together. The air is light with summer, all the promising lights sprawled at their feet like a carpet to heaven. Nicotine floats in grey spirals before Sehun’s lips as he lowers the cigarette, leaning on the railing. Bleached hair tousled before intoxicated lashes as they gaze down on the blurred world below. White teeth framing his smile like pearls along a painting. Pale skin glowing as angel’s wings seeping into the velvet collar, stark tendons and cartilage. Gangnam always looked so much better at night.

“I must say, I’m impressed. Who would have thought little Nohant fashion could ever dream of concurring against worldwide Juun J.? You’ve got guts.”

“People call me a daredevil.” Sehun breathes monochromatic smoke, a lazy smirk on his lips. 

“I’m almost glad, really. You’re quite interesting, Oh Sehun.”

“Enough to intimidate the famous Kim Jongin?” His smile is cheshire against the twilight.

“You wish.” Jongin chuckles, lips only slightly numb from losing count of the drinks. Sehun hums and lolls his head to eye Jongin. A little blurry in his vision, but that’s alright. Words flicker and burn and die under Jongin’s tongue like the tip of Sehun’s cigarette before his lips, ash tumbling to a loose void below. 

“Two major fashion companies - innovative, eye-catching - racing for the final spot… wouldn’t the media love this.” Sehun’s voice is there again - enticing. “It’s so funny to watch them gasp over our lives, I might even try to despise you on national television just to see their reactions. The stories, the gossip, just to see how far they go to get a good scoop - when we’ll be knowing all along every little secret they’ll amplify.”

Jongin laughs. “And here I was, daring to think that a rising company should keep their image polished. You truly are something else.” 

“So I’ve been told. So, what do you say? I’m offering to hype up the game. Add color, spice, flair. Act like we’re at each other’s throats for a gold medal. You’re confident enough in your position, and I’m only looking for a little advertisement. Gives you a chance to show how strong your company can stand against such a promising rival.” 

Jongin leans on the railing to look at Sehun. He’s all fine mysteries laced into ruby cufflinks and silk ties, all sweet words to wrap any passerby mindlessly around his rings. Jongin loved diamonds, rubies and gold, manipulation and strings to tug. Sehun offered everything filthy rich, and Jongin was never one to refuse a good business deal. 

“It’s amazing how you know your way around with words - complimenting your competition as well as yourself in a single breath. I’m curious to see how you play your cards for this game.”

“I offered a collaboration against a mutual enemy and individual profits. I have nothing to hide, Mr. Kim. My palms are open to only your eyes. The rules are to play the same cards to the media - but the fun part will be the very end. Seoul Fashion Week. There, we play the true hidden Ace. Against one another.” 

Jongin’s lips curl into a smile. “You know how to make offers to please. Consider me game,” he snatches the cigarette from Sehun’s fingers - tipsy hands almost stumbling - and takes a long drag, exhaling smoke on the latter’s eager ear, “Daredevil.”

~

Jongin finds Junmyeon savoring an expensive red wine in the lounge, well after Sehun has left the party and the crowd has begun to stumble out with hazy waves. Jongin sighs and makes himself comfortable on the couch, tipping his head back into silk pillows. 

“We hate each other.” 

Junmyeon’s amused grin is audible behind Jongin’s closed lids.

“Really?” 

Jogin nods.

“Well I’m awfully sorry.”

It’s only then when Jongin laughs. Apparently too loud, because Junmyeon flinches and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Okay okay sorry, but he’s so interesting? And strange? He offered we do a sort of messed up collaboration to say we hate each other on tv and all… but he’s so odd. He’s so sly. Like a fox. Looks like he’s got too many secrets in that royal fur of his - don’t you think Jun?”

Tipsy Jongin doesn’t care for the way Junmyeon twitches at the odd nickname - he wants to know how someone so fascinating such as Oh Sehun can even exist. 

“I’m not even going to bother asking about this shady collaboration you two have set up. But yes, I suppose that’s why he’s gotten known so quickly. Everyone is a star, but there are few who know how to showcase being a sun.” Junmyeon mumbles, staring at the Monet on the opposite wall as he traces the rim of his glass. 

“Ooh fancy words, Myeon. Is that wine Kipling’s most famous poem?” Jongin snorts. Junmyeon lets himself smile. 

“Just because I’m the only one sober and classy doesn’t mean I have to watch your company crash and burn after one drunk offer with your newest rival. You’ll be warned that I will save your ass as soon as things start to go south.”

“You love me too much, hyung. I’m fine.” Jongin drawls. 

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re a 30 year-old millionaire who can’t even drive himself home and always has to crash in my guest bedroom at every party. You know the maid still hasn’t stopped complaining about the mess you made with that model-”

“I’m blessing your entire house with my presence - I think the maid would swoon over some of my-”

“Yeah yeah, you’re an absolute demigod. I think it’s time for you to go ‘bless’ my guest bedroom one last time - goddammit Jongin don’t drool on the couch, it’s suede…”

“But it’s so comfyyyy I don’t wanna moove…” Jongin whines are muffled by the cushion he’s buried himself in. Junmyeon is too used to Jongin’s antics, so he merely sighs and pulls a blanket from a cupboard to cover the dozing business man. Jongin’s lips pull into a lazy smile and he mumbles a happy thanks. Junmyeon shakes his head and ruffles his hair. “Sleep tight, Jongin. Try not to dream of more stupid rivalry ideas tonight.” 

~


	2. Sparks

The following Tuesday, the office reflects mirrored sun onto the nape of Jongin’s neck, endless files with drawn figures and scratched snowflakes are dotted and sent to fashion editors and customers - and the vibration of his phone is quickly enough to draw his attention when he sees the text:

Unknown number:

_**\- What’s Seoul’s biggest designer up to? I’ve already laid my first card on KBS, time to get into the game, Jongin.**_

Jongin narrows his eyes. Blinks. Then laughs. “Oh Sehun, how smooth.” 

A quick glance to the clock tells him with a sly smile that he has enough time for a short break. In a couple taps, he saves the unknown number under a far more prestigious name, stretches his miles of legs and props them up on the table as he flicks to the mentioned channel on the television. Nohant’s logo pop up on screen and the pixels simmer into a detailed first-plan of Sehun’s strong features lined into a polite smile. 

“Well, that’s quite an interesting comment Mr. Song, but you see, I find that Juun J. is getting a bit out of style lately. It passes itself as high fashion, almost too elite to attain. On the other spectrum, Nohant appeals much more to the younger idol scene, and therefore has much more potential for rapid growth expansion.” 

Jongin’s brow quirks. The young man had done his research. He lowers his legs to lean on his knees.

The reporter seems pleasantly surprised. “I suddenly regret not having the promising gentleman on the show today! It is true, you have to give credit to Nohant and its wonderful CEO for catching the public eye. You certainly seem confident in your company and style, however such a grand rivalry surely must have some influence on your way of managing?”

“It’s more of a game, if I could put it that way.” Sehun smiles and Jongin finds himself mirroring the action.

“Like any good concurrent, I respect my competition’s strengths - but of course everything is more fun when you know their weaknesses.” Sehun runs a hand through his silver hair, confidence brilliant and hard as steel.

“And how do you plan on using those weaknesses to your advantage?”

“Now, there’s no fun nor game in divulging competition strategics on camera, is there? You’ll have to ask our clients to see what they think is our next step!”

“Playing in the public too! Well, Nohant seems to have plenty of surprises up their sleeve for the fashion-savvy community! We anticipate your next step in this apparent race for the top, thank you for coming on the show today Mr. Oh!” 

The reporter shakes his hand and ends the show with a whitewashed smile. Jongin hums and picks up his phone to text the star of the show. 

_**My, my… I see we have done our research? I must admit that you’ve somehow managed to raise the bar expectantly high for this game…** _

Even though he must be flanked by makeup artists and gushing fans right now, Sehun’s reply is immediate:

_**\- No way, I just leveled the playing field for both of us. I figured you’d be looking for a challenge. No need to thank me.**_

_**How generous of you. Just be prepared to handle Seoul’s best innovative company at its peak.** _

_**\- Flaunting that beautiful title can only last so long…**_

_**All the best to keep it while it lasts (forever)** _

_**\- Yeah yeah, we’ll see what you’ve got. Give it your best shot, Jongin.**_

_**Keep chasing my ankles, Sehun - I’ll be waiting at the finish line ;)** _

Jongin then tosses his phone to the couch, a satisfied smirk on his lips. His attention is turned serious when his secretary knocks at the door.

“Mr. Kim? Kibum was saying how good Rihanna would look in Juun J.’s latest summer branding, and it made the marketing team suggest more collaborations with celebrities…”

Jongin nods slowly and rolls a pencil between his fingers. How interesting it would be to play Sehun’s words against him. Jongin almost smiles at the idea. 

“I always trust my marketing team the most. Tell them I approve and that we’ll focus more on celebrity collaborations from now on. Book me a couple galas in Europe for the end of July where I can promote the line and talk with the artists. Movie premier, or a fashion show… the best you can find. Isn’t the Milan fashion week nearing? You know how that is always my favorite. Also, pencil in an hour or so on KBS talk-show for this Friday, 8pm.”

The secretary nods, pen furiously scribbling his every whim. Her hand then stills, suspended above the paper as she looks up through strands of shy hair. “Oh, and, sir, if it isn’t too much trouble - may I ask if you’re potentially worried about Oh Sehun and Nohant’s growing popularity…?”

“You’ve been working in this company from the beginning, Eunmi. How do we gauge potential concurrents?”

“A motivation for innovation.” She says with a dream in her eyes. Jongin nods. 

“That’s right. It’s our motivation to create better, prettier, more practical in every material and design. In a sense, it’s a blessing when competition comes our way.” 

“In a sense.” Eunmi beams and bows before she closes the door to leave Jongin to his work again.

The day passes by in a torrent of lined figures and shaded material, but all Jongin can think about are dark velvet suits and splattered lights blurring his vision, grey smoke blurring his mind. In a sense, it’s a blessing.

~

Friday finally comes.

“Ladies and Gentleman, Kim Jongin!”

The reporter greets him, the crowd swoons over Jogin’s brilliant smile and exotic tanned skin. They start off well enough; he’s asked regular questions about his upcoming fashion line, his ties with one of the models - to which he has the nerve to blush and say that he and Krystal were admittedly very close friends - and finally, about his thoughts on competitors.

The crowd shrieks Nohant and Jongin laughs with the reporter.

“Well? Isn’t it threatening to know that another company is rising quickly, coming faster to steal your place? He’s even dished out a couple snide remarks here and there.”

Jongin throws in a heady eye-roll before smiling. 

“Not really, no. Nohant is still rising. I don’t think they have what it takes yet to compete against the highest rankings. They’re still fresh meat, raw and innocent to this industry. They’re still too prone to slip up or have a couple tragically experimental lines. Sure, I’ll give them credit for landing a couple top spots here and there, but my company stays standing and secure. I have time before I have to start dreaming of losing clients to them.”

“So you’re saying this rivalry doesn’t affect you at all?”

“Hardly.”

The reporter seems dizzyingly impressed. “Well well, it seems as though Kim Jongin’s confidence has never wavered - but that’s what we all admire about him right?” The audience cheers in reply. Jongin sights a trifle straighter, juts his chin in pride.

“Jongin, you seem to base yourself off the fact that Nohant is still too fresh to be at your side just yet, but we all start from somewhere! What was your personal experience while rising to the top of this industry?”

“At 25, I was fresh out of ESMOD Tokyo - the world’s most prestigious fashion school - and my military enlistment had left a considerable mark at the back of my mind. I somehow loved the uniforms; their practicality as well as their class how it was made to show pride and dignity in the soldier who wore it. This had a major influence in my years during ESMOD, and I would so often find myself designing trench coats and trying to find ways to make it more modern, and to show subtilty with leather or furs as linings.  
Asia Times noticed me after my debut at Seoul Fashion Week, and I earned a column as one of the top 4 notable designers to watch. I thrived off the buzz and the attention, and of course have made amateur mistakes here and there, but picking yourself up and coming back with more force was a basic military procedure, and like the trench coats, it helped me a lot to push through to the top. After that, the fashion shows ran one after another, more and more people fell in love with the message and the style I conveyed… and here we are today!”

The reporter laughs. “Quite the parcour indeed! Who would have thought that military enlistments would actually be useful? Juun J. is by far Korea’s most innovative brand, and now it certainly makes sense as to why! So, you’ve somewhat been rumored as the King of Seoul Fashion Week since your debut, and we have the great joy to see you claim the runway this year yet again! Your style is certainly the most notable thing that we look forward too, but an outfit cannot thrive if it doesn’t have the right models. Your main style is menswear, yet you seem to have a considerable amount of female models - and it still manages to look stylish and a perfect fit. What is your secret to blurring the line between the genders?”

“It is true that my original goal was menswear only. But ESMOD taught me a lot about shaping silhouettes, forms, lines, their uniqueness as well as their similarities. I always admired creation, and decided to try designing menswear with an original female silhouette. The idea was to convey the message that there’s really no differences between us all, and how we’re all still human in all our raw simplicity and darkness.” 

The audience murmurs in awe, and the reporter nods, beaming. “Your title of best innovator in Seoul is certainly not overrated. Passion and Design mix so well with a creative mind. Certainly, though, you work on new launches with a team of equally incredible designers, and even other brands. Have you got any plans for collaborations in the future?”

“Well, I suppose I can only reveal that Juun J. has views for more collaborations with high-ranked celebrities and other world-famous brands. Only the best to serve the best, of course.” Jongin winks at the camera and the crowd gushes. 

“Well, I must say that Juun J. never fails to surprise and serve anything short of perfection! I’m afraid that’s all we have time for today, but I certainly hope to see you back on the show soon - perhaps when Nohant becomes more of a point of interest for you.”

The reporter chuckles and Jongin laughs along. With that, they conclude the show, bowing to the audience and to one another before Jongin claps and waves himself off set.

His phone buzzes.

_**\- I see you still mistake me for the newspaper boy begging for an interview as a journalist. Well played - You never told me you were an actor.**_

_**I get it from Kibum. I’m pleased to hear you say so, and I warned you not to underestimate me.** _

_**\- If I underestimated you, I would have never offered this game in the first place.**_

_**Too true. You’re a man of many jacks, but you’d be surprised to find that you’re not the only one with kings up his sleeves.** _

_**\- Why don’t you surprise me again over coffee tomorrow, Blind Alley shop at 10am? I’d like to know on how you plan on keeping your place with the dangerous Newspaper-boy at your heels.**_

_**How lucky you must be Mr. Oh. It just so happens that I’m free all morning - plenty of time for you to amuse me on how you think you’re going to outrun me.** _

_**\- Better watch out, Jongin - my stamina is one of the best.**_

_**I expect nothing less from you, Sehun.** _

And with that, Jongin turns off his phone and continues flecking his sketches with fluid strokes, drawing emotions on dresses and smiles on lips.

~

Jongin curses himself when the clock dares show that he’s ten minutes early. He secretly scours the coffee shop for a potted plant to hide behind. Call him a drama queen but he was never early for anyone. 

“How cute, you’re early.”

“Fuck you.”

Sehun has sauntered inside, slim sweater and a low mask to cover the chuckle on his mouth. 

“Fair enough. I can’t say much myself - I was actually on time. Won’t ever happen again, I can assure you.” 

“Thank god.”

They both ask for coffees with orders so ridiculously long that Jongin almost pities the poor waitress that has to ask them several times to repeat. They each have only 100’000 won in each of their pockets to pay, leaving the rest to fill the lonely tip jar on the counter. 

It’s a small hole-in-the-wall shop, a secretly common escape for those out-running paparazzis. The door is hardly visible from the outside - all crumbling bricks and waning paint. But the inside is a small paradise of lazy heat that curves through the atmosphere of a leisurely feng-shui. The ceiling is lower than prefered for the two tall men, but it’s hardly a bother when the decorations make hunching over almost a pleasure. They relax in a comfortable corner next to a rain-dipped window and warm music.

It feels too long since Jongin’s been graced with Sehun’s presence - the long lashes, the studious eyes, the narrow chin, the milk skin. Lazy heat curls in mists of vapor before his lips when he drinks. Sehun catches his eye and Jongin calmly averts his gaze. Holding his composure never seemed so hard.

“You seem tense… Don’t be. I’m not actually going to insult you or your company, Jongin. I admire you too much for that.”

Sehun’s voice pulls him back to the taste of caffeine on his tongue, the weight of honest eyes on his lips. Jongin eyes the latter through strands of hair. He feels like a foolish schoolboy before the CEO. It should be the other way around. Juun J. isn’t affected by a simple rising company nor a simply interesting man with cold features and smooth words… 

He clears his throat. 

“Sorry. Guess it’s out of habit to be on guard around you of all people…”

“It’s always easier to say you hate someone when you’re not before them. So when it’s just the two of us, you don’t have to bother trying. I know you don’t hate me, Jongin.”

Jongin would throw himself off a building rather than admit how he loves the way his name fits Sehun’s tongue like the sweetest taste-bud. Stop trying, Jongin.  
He exhales. 

“It’s just, you’re so odd, and cold and interesting and smooth and you can see far too much into people and their thoughts… how?”

Sehun smiles, resembling a sly fox. “People intrigue me. I like to analyze them and find the gold in their features and the silver in their thoughts. Some simply stay in my mind, dancing behind my eyes, telling me that there’s more to them, that I can’t forget them. And so I’m intrigued, curious.” He cocks his head, eyes riveted onto Jongin’s.

Jongin dares to hold the stare, pour himself into those curiously dark eyes until he feels flames lick his neck and irregulate his breathing, linking chains to the unscrutinable gaze -  
But Sehun is the first to break it. He lowers his head, a small smile on his lips. 

“You intrigue me, Jongin.” He mumbles into his latte.

Jongin sips at his own beverage. “In your hands, would that be a good or a bad thing?”

“That’s depends on how you see things.”

Jongin lowers his mug, soothes the edges. “I don’t see it as a bad thing…. Especially not when I told my secretary that competition was a blessing.” 

Sehun laughs fully, beautifully.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Sehun’s eyes are filled with mirth, twinkling mysteries.

“If that’s how you see things.” 

“I’d like to think so.” 

Jongin lets slip a smile. Sehun leans on his elbows.

“I never knew so much about your parcour. Admiration for military uniforms? I couldn’t even stand an hour in mine without dreaming of burning it to ashes.”

“I see the beauty and utility in odd things. They were so practical, manly, and held a certain significance of pride, honor in who you are. I’d flaunt my famous title again - but you’ve heard enough of it it seems.”

Sehun grins. “I could listen to you all day, you know. Especially when you talk about your style. You actually make me dream, look at clothes in a completely different way than how Nohant designs. You’ll be careful to watch me when I accidentally recommend a trench coat for next year’s line.”

Jongin feels sweet blood drizzle beneath his skin at Sehun’s words. “I’d be flattered. You always talk about admiring me when I dream about my style, but I know little to nothing about Nohant, really. I’d like to find out more about how my rival values his product - if it can threaten mine.”

Sehun seems to debate his answer for a minute, rolling the small biscuit over his plate, before answering in a thoughtful tone. “Nohant focuses on unisex clothes; radiant, spontaneous and stylish. It’s of modern simplicity with a timeless esthetic that appeals to the younger generation. I like it because it shows everybody’s inner creativity as well as their will to be unique, fashionable.” 

He looks outside the rain-streaked window, the brick wall on the other side grey and dreary with sad water draining the cracks. Fragments of hidden light dance across his face. 

“There’s something my best designer once said that I’ll always remember. He said: ‘ when the window view is cold and bitter, and people are bustling towards nowhere in dark colors shaded with fatigue, Nohant’s colorway of silhouettes and pastels will change the bustling scene into a vibrant and easy-going - because I believe that that’s the power of clothes. ’ That was probably the first time anyone had ever made me feel something truly deep about fashion - and from then on I decided to swear my commitment to that sentence, to the company, to the clothes and what they can express as a whole.”

Jongin’s voice mirrors the dream in Sehun’s. “That’s the power in fashion that I’ve always admired from the start. It can make anyone dream, change a personality completely or bring out their highlights, their beauties. It made even you dream. It’s was beautiful.”

It must be the light causing a slight shade of pink to dust Sehun’s cheeks, because he’s soon hiding his expression behind the shadows. “I’d rather listen to you talk about military uniforms.”

Jongin laughs. “Yeah right.”

Sehun’s voice is small, almost a mumble in the casting shadows, the sliding drops of rain. “No, really. Because you’re the one who makes me dream too. My designer was the first to spark something inside of me… now you’ve quickly become one to flare fire in my dreams.” 

Jongin is almost speechless at a sudden rise in his throat, a sudden spark in his palms. Sehun looks too shy, too quiet and hidden for it to be him. Jongin doesn’t want to believe it, doesn’t want to slip on ice. 

Sehun looks up, clear and shining with secrets. So many secrets that Jongin can’t even begin to decipher the whirlwind of emotions and unspoken words that all dance and ease into his mind by the means of Sehun’s indiscernible expression, his pink lips when he speaks; “I just hope I won’t get burned.”

“Fire has no substance for me - I would never hurt you.”

Jongin’s tongue speaks words lined with secret promise, evelopping each syllable like autumn’s fur-trimmed coat. Sehun’s gaze seems to follow his lips, trace his meaning. But his next words are hushed, almost like an escapade of his thoughts, perhaps not meant for Jongin’s awed ears. 

“If only the rest of the world thought like you, Jongin. If only they were like you…”

And it was then, for the first time, that Jongin thought that perhaps there was even more to Oh Sehun than whimsical surprises and manipulative gold. Perhaps it was all part of a facade, a mask held for too long and he needed a worthy challenge to piece it down.

Raindrops pepper the cool window and chill Jongin’s breath, but Sehun’s enticing gaze is enough to reel him in, swear to thaw the wintry expression into the summer warmth that simmers in his chest. 

~


	3. Burns

“Enjoy your flight, sir.” The air hostess flashes him a red-lined smile as she pours peach-light liquor into the crystal glasses.

The annual Milan fashion week already had a name and place set for Juun J.’s founder - thanks to his secretary, Jongin was on the first private jet flight out to the european country of luxury, fashion and art, accompanied with several other high-ranked friends of his. They sipped champagne among the clouds, and laughed over the celebrities’ stories to tell. 

Krystal sits beside Jongin, her hand resting lightly on his arm as she begs Jongin to come shopping with her in the Galleria Vittorio so that she can have a translator. After years of admiration for italian fashion and regular first-class flights to the country, Jongin developed a certain mastery of the foreign language, and is often teased yet secretly admired by the rest, who still can’t grasp the way Jongin’s tongue rolled those enticing Rs so effortlessly.  
Jongin merely smiles and promises her a full italian outing the day after the show. Krystal beames and kisses his cheek. 

~

One thing Jongin loves about Milan fashion week is that nothing is centralized. Every major designer holds their special event at a grand mansion or a palace fit for their runway only. It’s like little dots of resolute italian pride scattered around the center - unorganised yet amusing - perfectly italian. 

There’s Armani - held in his famous specially designed theater - , followed by Roberto Cavalli, Dolce & Gabbana - once had offered Jongin an outing in their yacht in Venezia - , Fendi, Gucci - in his newly designed headquarters… and on and on with the up-scale locations and luxury runways.

A myriad of flashy locations and prim designers and gorgeous celebrities, and among it all Jongin would have never even dreamed of running into Sehun on the third day. 

Sehun, with his embroidered suit and sleek hair, tall pale and proud as he sat in the second row during Prada’s autumn runway, slim eyes assessing the models and clothes that sashayed by. Only once did his eyes slide to Jongin’s - sitting in the very first row opposite, Krystal at his side - , and granted a flash of brief surprise in them before turning back to stone and focusing on the models again. 

Jongin tries not to feel the tight coil in his stomach at what was barely an acknowledgement. It had been perhaps three weeks since their secret meeting in a coffee shop, yet not a day had gone by when Sehun’s words or vixen gaze didn’t lick flames at the back of Jongin’s mind. 

But here, it wasn’t just the two of them. It wasn’t Sehun and Jongin talking over a passion with a warm cup of coffee to heat their palms - it was Seoul fashion companies Nohant and Juun J. at a fashion show in Milan, here to scour for potential business opportunities and celebrity collaborations. Jongin closes his eyes and wordlessly chants that sentence like a mantra.  
But it was always harder to build a facade when Sehun was around.

Krystal’s small hand on his knee is enough of a reminder. “Hey, are you okay?”  
He opens his eyes and draws a smile to her concerned whisper. He and Krystal were apparently dating to the public eye. She was another element to help him tether that infamous facade that he had forced on ever since Junmyeon’s party and a drunken promise. So he holds her hand and rests them on her sweet, slender thigh. 

“I’m fine, baby.” He even goes as far as nuzzling her ear, pretending to whisper a comment about the Prada handbag that just passed. His breath fans her slender neck, lips skimming her cheek. He can feel her blush and perhaps hide behind her hair, and he chuckles before pulling away, keeping his hand on her thigh. 

Jongin doesn’t know what he’s trying to prove, nor to whom - since the press here hardly gives a second glance to a korean designer, and the action will most likely go by unnoticed by the press back home - but he could have sworn that a pair of slender eyes and pale expression narrowed in his direction, and it’s enough for Jongin to hold himself a little higher, to draw circles on Krystal’s skin, because he’s Korea’s most innovative designer, and doesn’t let any rival two rows behind steal his pride.

~

**Sehun**

_“Jongin… of course he’s here. Didn’t Junmyeon mention that he even spoke italian? My my, that tongue of his must do wonders… fuck what am I thinking.... Who’s that with him? Oh, Krystal. Of course. Pretty girl. Wait, why is he touching her? Front row - really? have a little class, Jongin. How sweet… she’s blushing the little bitch. Jongin, that hand can just as easily rest in your lap. Goddammit don’t run your hand through your hair and fucking smile. What kind of fucking game? Is this hating me in public? Is this proving himself to the world that he has a hot girlfriend and I don’t? Is this trying to rile me up? Who are your trying to prove, Jongin?! What even… Kim Jongin I swear up and down to wipe that fucking smirk off if it’s the last thing I do in this country.”_

Sehun clenches his jaw and chains his eyes to the sombre jackets and light materials, the pale models and their protruding collarbones - but all he can see is tanned skin and thick lips drawn in a satisfied smirk, strong hands resting on another’s slender thigh.

_“Fucking tease. Game on, rival.”_

~

“Ciao. I don’t believe we’ve met. You are?” Among the throng of mingling designers and cocktail party company, a smooth english accent lined with wine-dipped italian curls around Sehun’s skin and pulls him straighter to the bejeweled hand before him. He eases a smile and grants the woman a light kiss on the hand out of courtesy and italian rite. Allegra Versace, heiress to the world’s most prestigious fashion house, doesn’t need to present herself, so it’s up to Sehun’s skills to whittle the conversation.

“Allegra Versace, what an honor. I’m Oh Sehun, CEO of Nohant fashion in Korea, but of course, that’s no title compared to yours.”

She laughs, light and thinly sardonic, plastic cheekbones fashioned to fake perfection to accommodate her thin, soured lips. Sehun smiles and takes a silent minute to bless every one of his english tutors for wringing his wretched adolescent accent into a smooth british speech - enough to make Versace grant him a polite laugh.

“Ah, yes the asian fashion is quite eccentric compared to our traditional European style, but I like it. I’ve even customized the dressings for a couple theaters whose setting was in Asia. I had to fly all the way to Shanghai for a couple months to see how things work there and what the style is like.”

Sehun nods. “Shanghai is a beautiful town - particularly fond of your brand, I find. I assume your first stop was the Metersbonwe Museum? It’s famous for the essence of Chinese culture and design.”

A light smile lines her puckered lips, as visible interest briefly illuminates her pale face. “Why yes, it is indeed. I’m glad to have met someone to relate to about it, I was so fascinated by all the patterns and silk… Tell me, what does your company focus on?”

“Nohant focuses mainly on street style, if I’ll be honest, and so we tend to appeal to the younger, fashionable generation such as famous pop stars and singers in the country. I have always admired the traditional styles, but I prefer to leave such details to the masters.” 

“Yes, street style is quite famous notably in Asia, I’ve noticed. I do believe that I saw another korean man in the front row this evening… My secretary mentioned his company… Juun J. , I believe? Do you know him?”

The image of Jongin smirking in the front row, high chin as he rests his hand on Krystal’s thigh flashes hot in his mind. Sehun’s jaw clenches for a second. 

“Unfortunately, yes. His company is one of the top in Korea for now, but as street style is rising in popularity, his fame is starting to waver, although he hides it quite well I must say.”

Allegra quirks her brow and breathes amusement. “Ah, yes A little competition is always the best remedy for inspiration. I saw him talking with Domenico - Dolce, of course. Now that you mention it, his face does ring a bell. I think I even overheard them speaking italian - quite impressive I must admit.”

Sehun controls his expression with cold ease. Lies tumble off his tongue like water. “It’s true, his company has more experience, of course. But Korea privileges fresh ideas, and Juun J. ‘s style is leaning towards the repetitive, bland side of the balance. I find his colors lacking and clothes overpriced for what they are.” 

Allegra grants his answer with a poised nod, and Sehun was visualize the pile of books balanced perfectly upon her sleek, high head. She reveals no opinion, no vulnerability to be manipulated, and it’s something that Sehun takes a mental note of - for that’s what it truly takes to run a world-famous company. 

“Every company does have its own way of innovating, but it’s true that the strongest will eliminate even the wisest. In the end, everything comes down to the fashion week - such as now. You judge the other’s design, rightfully praise what deserves it, and click your tongue at other obvious failures. When is the Seoul Fashion week for you?”

“In October. And I have every intention of owning the spotlight, since I’m confident in our latest designs for this season. But tell me, how do you handle competition, stress, models?”

Allegra hums and her lips line with a secretive smile. “Confidence. Pride. That’s all it takes. If people see that you’ve put your entire soul and pride into the clothes, then they’ll want to do so as well. Basic business strategics too, of course.”

Sehun nods. “I suppose I assumed that your answer as a multi-billionaire would be different from mine, but I guess in the end it’s the same secret - just applied better or worse.”

Allegra’s face morphs into what seems a genuine smile. “You have to be confident and give the vibe that you’re already on top - but it’s the media and the others that will follow and determine your podium. I wish you luck on your fight to the top - you’ll see that every second is worth it. Even if you end up alone in the end.”

Sehun stills. He sees Jongin out of the corner of his eye, tanned skin, bright smile as he converses effortlessly with the famous designer in sleek italian. Something inside his chest stirs, hurts. Allegra then suddenly is silent, sipping at her glass with taught precaution, balancing hidden feelings between her forefinger and glass. She seals her lips with champagne, but there’s a certain loneliness in her expression that Sehun recognises. 

“Is it really, though?” He mumbles to himself, but Allegra’s sharp ears miss nothing.

She turns to face him, expression carved ice once again. “Trust me. You have no room for weaknesses in this industry. They’ll rip you apart if you do so much as cry over a dead family member. Might as well comfort yourself with money, throw yourself into design since people all become fake at one point. Take my words to heart; it’s the only way you’ll make it.” 

Sehun thinks he sees her glass tremble but doesn’t dare comment. “It’s a tough truth, I guess. Would it be too bold to offer another lonely arm to accompany you for the rest of the night? I would love a professional’s critique of the others.” 

What resembles an amused smirk cracks her features, and she slips her arm in his as she whispers; “You seem understanding enough, and I’m never one to refuse a sweet distraction for a night.” she clicks her tongue, “Especially when Prada’s son hasn’t taken his dog-eyes off of me for the past hour. The man races cars for a living - he’s only here to see how many skirts he can catch with that pretty smile of his. Plus, his mother is another one of those defigured feminist dreamers… She can barely model her own clothes. The runway today was good enough but god not her… Do tell me if I’m being rude, but I truly can’t stand the Pradas. Dear all this talk is starting to drain me. Care to help me flaunt Versace for a while?”

Sehun laughs and refills her glass. “With pleasure.” 

They stride into the crowd both pale, lean, cold and proud. It’s a wonderful coincidence that Sehun decided to wear Versace for that night - black suit with embroideries around the shoulders and low, open chest - and every designer and celebrity pauses to glance at the passing pair with murmured surprise. Allegra stops and says hello to one of the company’s favorite models; Danielle Lashley, a pretty girl with exotic skin and a sweet smile.

Allegra presents Sehun with far more vigor than before - smile permanent on her lips, charming laughter whenever the expression needed such - and introduces her blushing model as her top recommendations for street style modeling, noticeably for Versace’s street line; Versus. Sehun smiles and shows equal enthusiasm, catching up to Allegra’s offer of her model. He directs his attention to the model, shows her equal charm and he thanks the heavens that she is one of those girls who easily accept a glass or two more of wine and who succumb to a foreigner’s thinly accentuated english. 

Danielle flashes pearly whites against chocolate skin and sweet freckles as she smiles underneath the lamplight. They talk with eloquence and ease, poise and prestige over clothing details or discreet compliments. 

Sehun isn’t sure whether he chooses to blindfold himself solely to Jongin’s burning gaze on the other side of the grand hall - but it’s a scalding in which he relishes in as he laughs a little louder, holds Versace a little closer as his lips mouth countless competitive lies.

Or so, that’s what he tells himself - mostly to veil the way the smoldering stare is tearing him apart.

~

**Jongin**

Jongin always loves talking to people with a sharp tongue, things to express and opinions to form over fashion, music, art. Domenico Dolce was a man of culture and bright interest - he almost reminded Jongin of Junmyeon except for… well… fashion-savvy and gay.

Nonetheless, the sexual orientation is almost a trend in the industry, and so the two speak in joyful italian about the new launch, whose fashion show they’re expecting, how the yacht has a new private lounge room, and how Jongin’s eyes keep straying to a certain tall man behind. 

Domenico raises a clever brow and laughs. “Un tuo conoscete?” 

Jongin wordlessly curses himself and tugs at his cufflinks. “An acquaintance, indeed. Head of another fashion enterprise in Seoul… which he manages regrettably well.” 

The italian billionaire nods slowly. “Ah… other companies are always a pain, but of course a man with your experience know how much it’s a motivation more than anything. Take me and western products in the 90’s. I would have never dreamed of designing anything other than swimsuits and women’s leotards if it hadn’t been for Gabbana’s insisting on modernising and expanding.”

“If I sold a jacket for every time I recited the same proverb, I would be holding my runways in Paris instead of Seoul.” Jongin does little to keep the clipped tone out of his voice. 

Domenico hums. “You are by far one of the best foreign italian speakers I’ve known over the years, and I must say it always is a pleasure to see you at this time of year.” Jongin offers a humble smile. “I know you well now, Jongin, and I can say that your talent and ideas certainly expand beyond your city’s small fashion week in October. I respect your country, of course, seeing as how I noticed the underlying genius in designing military pride to accommodate luxury within practicality. So I truly believe that your experience and talent deserves that recognition.”

Jongin straightens himself and truly smiles this time. Dreams of designing side-by-side with Chanel, Dior, Armani and D&G always seemed confined in a golden cage, worlds across from his small conservative country. Here, Dolce offered the promise of a certain golden key. 

“Your friendship and compliments are always one to flatter, and I’m glad to have such a powerful influence by my side for tonight.” He thinks briefly of Versace by Sehun’s side, and his mind distorts the senario into a battle for the podium. Jongin always hates to lose. 

“Seoul fashion week is surely wonderful for national recognition, but it’s been years of the same headlines, same small theater… My mother always use to scold me for my ambitions, but I suppose they’re what allow me to progress by sea and country.”

Domenico grins and places a hand on Jongin’s arm. “Well, I can tell you that I’m not the only one who notices your genius and confident stride; there’s one of the representants of _La Chambre Syndicale de la Haute Couture_ here - fresh from Paris - and I do believe overhearing your name in their conversation. That first row ticket was well worth it, it seems.” He winks, and Jongin feels like the world has blossomed into bursts of color, senses overpowered by the visualization of an early spring and winds of honey-scented opportunity. His words melt over Jongin’s skin and coat his hopeful heart with excitement. His pleasured surprise must be obvious on his expression, because Domenico is soon chuckling and guiding Jongin with a steady hand on his back towards a man with buzz-cut short hair, piercing blue eyes and carefully cut stubble lining his features, a small recognisable alligator on his navy-blue suit. 

The man sets down his glass as they approach and shakes hands with Dolce, icy eyes flickering towards Jongin in interest. Dolce briefly asks him about today’s show in french - for sake of courtesy - before presenting the man in english, italian tongue adding flirt and elegance to the introductions.

“Jongin, I present to you Felipe Oliveria - head of Lacoste creative design, and consequently, member of the famous Chambre Syndicale de la Mode Masculine.”

Jongin bows slightly and shakes his hand with a charming smile. 

“It’s an honor to meet you.” Oliveria seems pleased.

“Felipe, here is the one and only Kim Jongin I had so raved about the other day. He’s head of Juun J. fashion, truly the best fashion house in Korea at the moment. I’ve seen his talent, and I think that it is high time he started thinking about showcasing his future lines among the runways in Paris.”

Jongin feels suddenly nervous, like he’s going to be analyzed, dissected on a red table under a higher status - but Oliveria’s expression is thoughtful, curious. 

“I have indeed noticed you a couple times over the years, but I have never actually seen any of your work - but I would be more than pleased to… ah, that english expression… to lend you a helping hand to climb towards Paris. _La Chambre_ is quite critical, but if trustworthy Dolce here can assure me of your talent, then I see no reason why I shouldn’t believe him.” He smiles and Jongin feels a rush of fresh air enter his lungs again. 

“Paris has always been a dream that I’ve been confident in achieving ever since I graduated from ESMOD, and the Seoul runways are starting to bore. Besides, the street style in Asia is rising in popularity, and I feel that soon, my goals for sophisticated clothes won’t shine as much in an atmosphere with so much street trash. The best haute couture resides in Paris, and I feel that it’s one of the only ways to show my view on fashion and modernity to fresh eyes.”

Oliveria nods slowly, something akin to a smirk curling on his lip. “Well, you sure know how to valorise your company - I expect nothing less from an ESMOD graduate. That’s something essential to be able to handle for these fashion judges. I would love to see your designs one time.”

Jongin’ attention was solely focused on Oliveria’s promising offer - until he sees Sehun saunter up to the bar next to them, Allegra Versace as well as a second beautiful model on his arm as he orders three drinks. Jongin tenses. Jongin’s lips feel dry, and a rush of boldness straightens him out and levels his gaze back to Oliveria’s, voice smooth and clear for curious passing ears.

“I’ll tell my secretary to send them to you tonight. If you’re free after Cavalli’s show tomorrow, we could talk about it over a coffee sulla Piazza del Duomo. It would truly be an honor to hold a future showcase in Paris, so I hope my designs are fit to please.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sehun turn to leave on his heel - and the two rivals catch gazes. Jongin juts out his chin and immediately pulls down an impassive mask, a cool eyebrow raised as he purposefully lets his eyes flicker down on the latter with thinly concealed pride. Sehun stiffens and raises his chin, the girls on either side ornating him like golden trophies, and holds Jongin’s gaze in a challenge.

Jongin almost stumbles from the actual fire burning in them - too raw and furiously real to simply be a facade this time. 

The entire thing lasts perhaps under thirty seconds, because Sehun’s tall figure soon dissolves in the crowd and fractured chandelier light, but Jongin feels like he’s just fought in a Gladiator arena and taken two brutal strikes through his armor, skin ripping in agony under Sehun’s iron gaze and trophy escorts. His hands tremble, but he still holds the crown.

Oliveria’s keen eyes notice the exchange and he hides a chuckle behind his glass. 

“Sounds perfect. I’ll pencil you in for tomorrow at 11am - we can go to Cavalli’s show after.”

They shake hands and Dolce offers another round of champagne to celebrate the future of Juun J. 's potential, and doesn’t forget to whisper into Jongin’s ear; “Don’t worry about any competition - I doubt he can sign a contract for a Paris runway show. Come now, the champagne will get flat.” He then winks and pats Jongin’s back, and Jongin forces a smile at Dolce’s thoughtful attempt of reassurance.

Jongin knows that Sehun is glaring at his back from somewhere among the crowd, but he shrugs it off and laughs with the famous designers, Krystal finally joining his side again after having left for a tour of the Prada history case.  
Familiar power surges through his skin as his surroundings serve to raise his confidence and build that infamous facade even stronger. He clinks glasses with Lacoste and Dolce, and the iron gaze melts into the back of his mind for the night.

~

After having survived the full week of fashion ecstasy and italian clothes, Jongin posts his collection of runways and selfies from the trip, onto twitter and instagram from the comfort of the private jet’s best lounge chair.

There’s a snapshot of his favorite menswear line from Armani, a sweet picture of Krystal eating a small gelato in front of the Duomo, and at last a selfie of him, Dolce and Gabbana (the other half had joined them to inform his co-founder of a new business idea), and Oliveria - captioned: _**“La sciampagna con buoni amici… era una bella sera, grazie mille! @dolcegabbana Paris, excited to soon be a part of the runway! @Felipe.oliveriaLacoste”**_

By the time they landed in Seoul, Jongin’s pictures had gotten over 2 thousand likes and comments. Junmyeon even commented a word of congratulations. 

After replying with a humble thanks to Junmyeon, Jongin scrolls through the news. His twitter feed is a myriad of famous fashion houses and models, but the top recommendations have always been a nuisance. He’s forced to stop at the “most popular” post : a full blown selfie of Sehun and Versace, as well as the other model’s hand on his shoulder with a brilliant smile against her freckled chocolate skin. The caption reads: _**“Models, Fashion, beauty - the italians always do things better. @allegraversaceofficial Up for a trip to korea? @danilashley”**_

Jongin snorts and shoves his phone into his pocket. His throat feels oddly constricted and the urge to throw something is tempting. Krystal’s hand is on his arm, light and comforting in most cases… but it only feels heavy on his skin and he pulls away, leaves her looking after him with a curious expression.

~

Back at work the next week, the city is grey with rolling clouds over skyscrapers, drenched in a thin veil of sliding raindrops.

Jongin sips his 10am coffee during his break and lazily flicks through the channels. He clicks past a replay of a sickly sweet drama, the daily news on warzones and blood around the world, a music stage with teens singing in berets and schoolboy uniforms, a reality show where a girl is yelling at her boyfriend… he stops on the channel of calm white chairs and a suited host. The recognisable blonde hair is enough for Jongin to lower the remote and hum around his coffee. 

“Sehun, this was your second time at the Milan fashion week, how can you compare this year’s show to your first?”

“Well, first of all, my first fashion week, I only went for about three days. It was merely out of curiosity and amusement - I always love the ambiance during a fashion show. I only went with a casual friend - with whom I actually work with today. I don’t really remember who we saw. We came when it started and left when the lights dimmed - I had no reason to stay or actually talk with anybody since nobody knew me at the time.  
“But this year, I went for the entire week, stayed for the after-parties - Gucci’s was the best by far - and talked with an entire list of celebrities, models and designers. I went with a name to uphold and a company to promote, but also discover and appreciate the different cultures that all mingled during that week.”

“It certainly seemed like you had fun with all the celebrities! You posted a picture not long after with Versace’s successful daughter and a famous streetwear model. What’s it like to know famous people behind the scenes?”

“It’s fun, really. Versace is quite interesting and headstrong, and Danielle has a lovely laugh. I was happy to exchange managing techniques with Versace and even promise a contract with Danielle.”

“Are there any truly interesting personalities that surprised you during that week?”

“There were a couple other designers - chinese, japanese and of course korean. I met a rather nice japanese man and his wife who whispered underneath their breath whenever they saw someone who caught their eye - and not too nicely either. Ironically, they always seemed to whisper when another tall korean passed by. My japanese is perhaps thin, but I do believe overhearing a particular name in their snide remarks. The japanese don’t like tanned and over-enthusiastic. Of course, it would be rude of me to say who, but I will say it made them like me a lot more.” 

“And I guess that’s always the key to pleasing people! Are there any specific personalities that you truly can’t stand?”

Jongin doesn’t miss the way Sehun juts out his chin, and he knows it means hell before Sehun has even spoken.

“I don’t like people who puff out their chest and lay out their talents on a golden table… there’s no subtlety - for example, making sure to speak italian with a famous designer whenever somebody passes by, or even publishing private contracts on social media. It shows little handle on their class, and of course, elegance is always at its finest when it’s subtle.”

The reporter raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his lip. “Well that sure is quite a strong opinion to have, but it’s true that the fashion industry is probably the most hidden of them all - all secrecy and hidden comments… what do you have to sa-“

The screen shuts black under Jongin’s enraged finger. 

“The little bitch.”

He wants to scream but the goddamn door is still open. A thick cloud boils angry vapor into his head, heat rises behind his eyelids. He clutches the edge of the desk with shaking palms. Closes his eyes and counts to ten with slow, seething breaths. 

It’s all for the game, it’s just the game… he’s just trying to push me, he wants a challenge...

When he opens his eyes, all he can see is red - the quivering fire in the window’s half-exposed reflection.

“If the Daredevil is scared of getting burned, he shouldn’t have kindled the fire. Fucking game on, Oh Sehun.” 

This time, there are no sarcastic texts after the show, nothing close to a reassurance that it’s all a harmless game.

He then stands, jaw locked in a scowl, straightens his tie and rings for his secretary. 

“Book me the first talkshow you can find. Motivation for innovation be damned.” He has no care for discretion anymore, what he wants is to show them who’s boss. 

~

There are a multitude of worried texts from Junmyeon that ring his notifications, but Jongin doesn’t even bother opening them - now is not the time to be distracted by a friend’s concerns for him. He’s not a child anymore, he can stand strong and fight his own battles. He knows his weaknesses, his strengths, and dear god help Oh Sehun for the storm he’s about to receive.

“We’re going live in 3, 2, 1.” 

The cameras click, roll, and the lights flash onto Jongin and the talk-show host.

“Here we find ourselves again with the founder of Juun J. fashion, Korea’s favorite haute couture line! Jongin, you visited Milan last week as many of the high designers in the country, and word has it you’ve always had a soft spot for Italy. Is it true that you speak italian?”

“Yes, I’ve always loved Italy ever since I saw a Gucci runway while eating pizza in a restaurant, so I started learning the language and it’s been one of my best life choices so far. I’ve been able to talk with almost all of the high designers there, notably Dolce and Gabbana.”

“That takes quite the dedication to learn a new language at the age you started! We’ve all seen the pictures you posted shortly after coming back home, and of course the comments on it haven’t gone unnoticed either. I’ve prepared a little something for today… Here I will read some nasty comments - oral or written - and we’ll see how the famous Juun J. reacts!” The reporter throws him a sickly caked smile, positively evil. Jongin curses his luck for terrible reporters. 

The comments are a little piqued here and there, but they make Jongin laugh more than anything. There are more than a few who compare him to Sehun, and Jongin’s denamor visibly stiffens when the reporter reads them.

“This fan seems quite biased: _‘Jongin is weak. he hides himself behind high designers to make himself look better while Sehun is out there catching famous models left and right like a real man’_.” 

“I really don’t see how that’s considered as a drag when Mr. Oh was clearly doing the same - if not more so. It’s a funny way to think if he can be called a true man while showcasing girls on each arm like trophies, and I’m called weak for enjoying a glass with an old friend who happens to be interesting, expressive and talented? I think you need to re-check your morals, darling.”

The audience gasps and the reporter chuckles and continues reading, clearly enjoying himself far too much. _“Nohant is class and Juun J. is trash. End of story.”_

“Oh dear, a cliff hanger? No, I’m sure there must be more to it - there’s no possible way for any human to dare call street fashion ‘class’. Your precious CEO has only been to two Milan fashion weeks in his life. Nohant wouldn’t know ‘class’ if it slapped them in the face with Prada’s newest launch. Keep dreaming, but remember that jealousy is never a virtue.”

The crowd gasps. Some even laugh. Jongin thinks his tongue will burn with all the lies he ignites it with. His hands are shaking, so he tucks them inside his jacket.

“ _‘My man Sehun is right; Jongin’s ego could probably drown his entire office building.’_ ”

“At least I have an office building. What does Nohant work in again? A low-class abandoned office. Quite the surprise, actually, seeing as his ego is really no less impressive than mine. The man was smirking at every camera for the entire night. You would think he would settle for nothing less than glass walls -but I guess budget was tight when they started, poor things.”

“ _‘Making sure to speak italian whenever someone passes, or publishing private contracts on social media shows little handle on class. And of course, elegance is always at its finest when subtle.'_ "

Jongin’s jaw cracks. There’s no way that that comment accidentally slipped in there. Nonetheless, it was the one he’d been waiting for. He curls an empty smile as he answers:

“I’ll admit to perhaps being less subtle recently, but really it’s the only way to shut down irrelevant, blind hate. But I suppose I’ll just have to handle my class a little better just for this one.” He clears his throat for effect, “Well, as every high designer knows, it’s true that elegance is in the finest details. But then again, last time I checked, I’m my own person who is still at the top of this industry, so, really, who are you to judge what I choose to post or not? I guess people really have nothing else to do in their lives besides awe and spit over celebrities. Shame, really, especially when they ruin their potential with petty rumors.”

He can’t tell whether he’s mad at Sehun or at the media really, but it’s all a foolish game and it throbs in his temples and sticks under his skin until he’s suffocating, exhausted.

There’s a soft murmur in the audience but the tension in the room hangs heavy on Jongin’s throat. 

“Quite well said… This goes to show that it only takes that kind of power to run Seoul’s best company yet, and it’s no wonder that Jongin has every quality required. Thank you for joining us today, Jongin. We look forward to seeing you again in the near future.” 

Jongin stands with a forced smile and a bow before being led off set. He reaches for his phone, almost out of instinct, but there’s no blonde-fringed name with sarcastic remarks or angry messages to look forward to. Jongin feels proud, but empty. This time, there’s no one to laugh with over his quick talk or smooth replies, no one to tease him about a certain slip-up or to reassure him somehow that there are two of them in this, and they’re on the same side. No one to get angry at and finally cite his reasons for such vile talk. 

He sighs and excuses himself from the crowd of staff that rushed to pamper him. He closes himself off in a dressing room and slides to the floor, back against the wall. His mind is a torn canevas of grey decisions, purple regrets, red pride, blue loneliness, all ripped and splattered - cold to his skin and heavy on his lashes when they all paint his vision in a dull brown blur. 

Only his soft breathing is audible in the room as he tries to focus on absolutely nothing - maybe on the way Krystal’s hand can be so small in his, or the way that one model’s dress had an interesting curve, or the curious way leather shines underneath the bright sunlight - or in contrast to bleached hair and cold eyes -

His phone jumps in his hand, and Jongin picks up on the first ring. His tongue is dry and his heart is shaking. 

_**“Jongin? Jesus finally you answered - I was worried you had smashed your phone again. Jongin what the fuck was that broadcast… What’s going on? we haven’t talked since the party almost… Why don’t you come over and we can talk… Are you still there?”** _

Junmyeon’s voice floods Jongin’s senses like a cleansing water and it comes with the familiar feeling of wanting to bury himself in his elder’s grand house, cocooned in motherly words and childish protection - just this once. He closes his eyes. His throat chokes him when he speaks. 

“Hyung… I’m sorry… God I’m such a mess. I can’t think straight… he’s so fucking stupid, I don’t know how to play or what to do…” 

_**“Jongin, breathe. Okay. I’m not going to ask you anything else now. You’re going to get up and leave that damned set and drive yourself right to my front door. We’re going to talk until your head is clear, and then you can sleep over if you want. Okay? I’ll see you in 15 minutes.”** _

Jongin can only hiccup a soft “thank you hyung” before hanging up. He slowly stands, takes deep breaths and walks out to close himself in his sleek car - closes himself in money and fake smiles to the flashing cameras - before driving to Junmyeon’s mansion, knuckles white on the steering wheel the whole ride.

~


	4. Mirrors of sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy Sekai Please

Junmyeon’s concerned frown droops when he sees Jongin’s deflated state at his front door. He pulls the younger in and doesn’t utter a word when he wraps Jongin in a warm hug. Jongin is always grateful for Junmyeon’s small yet firm hugs. He smells like another new cologne; like waterfalls and flowers.

“God I leave you for three months and you end up running your adolescent heart off to everyone you meet.” Junmyeon sighs, but runs his hands through Jongin’s hair softly. “Come on, Dr. Kim is ready to help you with our newest step-by-step recovery program, if you’re ready to go through this self change.”

Jongin actually laughs. Junmyeon stops and looks back at him with wide eyes. “Woah you must be really out of it. I think the last time you laughed sober at my jokes was when you were six and I showed you a bad collage with your head stuck to a dog’s body.”

Jongin laughs again. The pressure seems to actually wash from his shoulders, and his hands don’t shake anymore. He’d missed his friend. 

“Guess you’ve got a pretty bad case here, Doctor. I might be in need of some of that special therapy of yours…”

“I’m not hooking you up with another one of my cousins. Poor girl drowned herself in ice cream and bad romance dramas for a week after you didn’t follow up.”

Jongin winces. “Okay fine. I guess I’m fine with talking.”

Junmyeon rolls his eyes. “I swear you’re still a bratty adolescent. Which is exactly why I took care in ordering doughnuts and chicken - honestly way better therapy.” He turns to lead Jongin towards the lounge, a small hand on his shoulder. Jongin snickers “You’re so cute and caring, Myeon. Thank you.” Jongin wraps his arms around the smaller again just as he is opening the box of doughnuts. Junmyeon taps his arm. “I know, and I deserve more than having to deal with your drunken deals as a therapist, and yet here we are.”

“A simple ‘you’re welcome’ is always polite too, Junnie.” Jongin sniffs as he plops himself on the couch.

“You really are the worst when you’re drunk or beaten up; you’ve never called me more than one nickname.” Junmyeon breaks a doughnut into small pieces and tosses one into Jongin’s open mouth. Jongin hums when he catches it with his tongue and chews with a grin on his face. Junmyeon finally softens and takes the chair opposite. 

“Okay, now, I think it’s time to talk about what really happened after the deal. From beginning to end. You’ll get a piece of fried dough for every scenario described.”

Jogin rolls his eyes but then tries to remember the order in which things happened. He recounts the events with his nose scrunched up, hands behind his head. From their first text messages about the talk shows, to the coffee outing, to Milan, to now. Junmyeon sits quietly listening, casually tossing bits of sweet dough whenever Jongin describes something in particular detail. By the end of it, Jongin feels like he’d just vomited an entire bucket of sickly heart cookies and stupidly sugary sweets - or like a teenage girl sobbing over her boyfriend who didn’t send her a goodnight message.

He groans. “God Junmyeon, what have I gotten myself into…”

Junmyeon - the actual fucker - smiles. “Looks like our little Jonginnie has a love problem.”

Jongin’s heart does a strange twist at the word, so he throws the pillow at his friend’s face. “Fuck you. It’s business. Reputation. He’s calling me out for nothing, and I’m going to get screwed because of it? No way.”

Junmyeon leans back in his chair and rolls a piece of doughnut into his mouth. 

“You two are jealous teenagers with an adult’s influence.”

Jongin scoffs. “I’m not jealous. I’m pissed. Who the fuck does he think he is to have said such things about me? We were on the same side, and then all of a sudden he stabs me in the back. I mean, sure if it were still for the game and we were just acting the whole thing, but we don’t even text anymore… It hurt way more than I’d care to admit when I dared to look at my phone after his show, to find it blank. If it were still just a harmless game, he would have fucking told me. He would have texted me some stupid snarky message and I would have smiled and answered two seconds later saying how awful he was but then he’d have said some smooth line and would have had plastered a stupid smile on my face for days and holy shit what the fuck am I saying Junmyeon why does my chest hurt oh my god.”

Junmyeon hands him a bottle of water with shock on his face. Jongin coughs on nervous gulps. 

“The more you talk the less I’m convinced you still have a dick right now.” 

“I’ll have you know that my dick is still perfectly functioning, thank you. But you can still come and verify that claim if you like.”

“You’re too gay for me to comprehend, Jongin. I can’t believe you still insist on hooking up with my cousins.”

“Girls are cute and soft.”

“And Sehun is tall, dark and sexy… Isn’t he enticing?” Junmyeon smirks.

Jongin actually hides his face behind a pillow and - dear god Junmyeon will never let him live this down - blushes. 

Junmyeon leans in to whisper into his ear. “I think someone’s caught a little Love bug.” 

Jongin throws the water bottle this time and consequently has to deal with Junmyeon’s shrieks about his ironed shirt. 

“Shut up and help me Dr. Phil.”

“First of all, you are from now on not allowed a single object in your reckless hands. Second of all, the problem right now is that Sehun kind of betrayed you, but it all starts from jealousy at the fashion show. He wasn’t jealous of the fact that you were talking with high designers, or speaking italian. He was jealous because your hands were on Krystal and not him. He was mad because you talked the whole night in italian - Jongin for christ’s sake that’s just about the sexiest language you can find, honestly he must have been internally screaming the entire night - with another man.  
“So, to comfort himself, he clung onto Versace and the model, and acted like he could even try to place himself at the same level as you. So, really, there’s professional and personal jealousy mixed in, and then you have Seoul’s most influential fashion houses at each other’s throats.” Junmyeon leans on his elbows and Jongin seriously considers buying him owl-framed specs because the university-psychiatrist-look never suited anyone better. 

Jongin falls silent. He frowns. “But you don’t know Sehun.”

“Jongin, you really are as dense as concrete. I’m sure that if you ask Dolce about it, he’ll say the exact same thing. It doesn’t take a microscope to see that you two were sauntering around each other like proud peacocks for the night. And I wasn’t even there.”

Jongin groans and buries his head in a pillow. “Yeah well, he’s still a bitch.”

“He seems temperamental, so his reaction on the show was… well, expected. You, however, went all out. I’m not sure whether I should be proud of you or feel sorry for you…”

“Do whatever you want. Personally, I actually feel like a girl on her period right now.”

“I’d make another statement about your masculinity but I’ll let you off the hook for now. But, you were particularly brutal today, so it would be logical that he would get mad or do something in retaliation… Has he sent you any texts?”

Jongin shakes his head slowly, lower lip threatening to pout. 

Junmyeon curses. “That’s really bad… But if it makes you feel any better, you can hide away in my guest bedroom and I can throw a rumor saying that you’re dead. Then he can show up like a fairy tale prince and kiss you awake.”

Jongin has run out of things to throw so he merely groans and hits his arm.

“I can’t believe you’re older and classier than me.”

“You love me. Anyways, we need to know what Sehun is up to right now… Don’t look so pale. I’m just going to think harmlessly about what to do. Come on, eat some chicken, it’s getting cold.” 

Jongin sighs and chews on the greasy meat. He mulls it all over in his head, but instead of surprise, he feels like the clouds in his head just cleared a little more. Maybe now that he knows the reason why Sehun’s tongue had no filter during the show, there’s somehow an even bigger pain gnawing at his chest; because now that he thinks of it, maybe it hurt Sehun to say such things as much as it hurt him.

~

Sehun

Ever since he turned on the damned TV, he’s felt like every atom has been clawed from his body. Seeing Jongin’s plush lips curled in such utter disgust as he spat words of disdain pointed towards none other than him… it boiled his blood. It wasn’t his fault that Jongin had been such a stuck up jerk in Milan. How could he help the bile rise in his throat when he saw Jongin’s hand on Dolce’s shoulder? When he himself had scoffed at Jongin’s pride, it had hurt to lie so much. Sure, he’d clearly been more than rude on the show, but Jongin… he was downright mean. He took five jabs at Sehun’s pride, hitting the company’s name on the way.

Speaking of the company, it isn’t entertained. The investors are enraged. Sehun sighs and roughly shoves his chair back as he gets up to head to the meeting room, dragging his feet like a child yet adjusting his tie like the CEO. 

There are five of them seated at the table, and when Sehun takes his seat, he assesses every angry eye with cold denamor. 

“Gentlemen.”

His newest investor, red faced and bristled hair, has no time for greetings, apparently. “This company has gone through public humiliation because of Kim Jongin. If it were simply rebel, it can be dismissed. But you seem to forget that your company is still rising, and that Juun J. currently has far more influence than you. It’s too early to try to gamble at the poker table when you’ve just gotten the cards.”

Sehun is about to reply when he is cut off by another business man. “You can’t play around with the company’s image based on how you feel, Sehun. We are far bigger than you, and as the CEO, you have that responsibility to uphold.”

Sehun barely holds back a scowl. “Exactly, and as the CEO of this company I think it would be appropriate to talk to me as your equal and not to lecture me like a scholar. I’m fully aware of my actions and their consequences. However, I do believe I took great care in being as subtle as possible if needed to show our own power. Look at it this way; we’re basically growing a fanbase, and that’s the key thing for a debuting image. You’ve seen it - there are plenty of people ready to defend Nohant and its image.  
It’s a typical case of competition - but I’m sure you’ve all seen plenty of those in business school. Then of course, you’ll know that we have different styles, and so we are therefore targeting different audiences. Juun J. aims for haute couture and so perhaps a more secluded class, whereas Nohant appeals to the younger eye. Those who catch the youngers’ approval are those who fly much faster to the top.”

There’s a thoughtful murmur throughout the room. Sehun leans back and crosses his arms. “Well, I do believe I’ve said my defense. Now, you’re the business graduates who apparently have little confidence in my ways of running this company, so I assume you’ve come prepared with a strategic solution to secure our position and reputation?”

Another hurried murmur. One investor then clears his throat and draws Sehun’s attention.

“Kim Jongin has ripped at this company’s pride, so we’ve thought about doing activities that promote our public image. The fans can play in their virtues as well. We thought of re-decorating the office building for a laid-back yet luxurious vibe, and holding an open house day for everyone to admire Nohant’s true style. Fans can try on clothes, see a couple mini-runways, and we’ll call in idols and famous models to really draw the media and boost the positive image.”

Sehun allows a small expression of satisfaction curve his impassive features. “I knew I could trust you, Mr. Song. The idea sounds perfect. I’ll call for a meeting with the designing and architect teams to coordinate the decor with the clothes. As for idols and models, I think to have enough connections to easily get that part done - I’ve got a couple favors due to be cashed in anyways.” He then stands and bows to all the investors on the table, their frowns now lifted in spirits at the newfound security in the company who does their bank accounts so well. 

“Thank you for your solutions, gentlemen. I’m sorry that you ever doubted my company’s success as well as my handling, I hope such matters never happen again, for it would be a shame to lose such intellectual minds. I’ll have my secretary keep you all updated on the plannings for the open house, and new ideas are always welcome. As for Kim Jongin… there’s really no need to worry about the man. Have a nice day, gentlemen.”

All the investors stand to bow as they filter out, hushing words of concern or praise as they pass Sehun who waits out of respect. 

By the time they’re all gone, Sehun slumps back into the high-backed leather armchair and runs a tired hand through his hair. He’s pleased with the prospect of re-gaining their social status… of course he is… but nonetheless, there’s this pressure in his chest that hasn’t left since he turned on the TV. Jongin’s disdainful words nagging him during the whole meeting, finally seizing this silent opportunity to lunge back at him.

When he first saw it in colorful pixels, he was mad. He can still remember the way his teeth clenched and his blood rushed.  
Now, alone in the deathly silent room with nothing but the faintest smell of money and cologne on the leather, he can feel nothing but emptiness. A constricting anxiety crawling underneath his skin.

The scene flashes over in his head, whitewashed disgust that clashes with warm coffee shop sincerity. Which to believe? The game, the game… it was to push the game even further… yes he’d started it - but he found it did no good to point fingers at a mirror. What if Jongin believed Sehun’s poisoned, rage-induced talk? Every word he’d spoken on that wretched show had torn his tongue apart. Lie after lie after lie. So many daggers he sent through his own throat for each one, he thinks he’ll never be able to speak an untruthful word again. Had Jongin believed each one?

No, no. Jongin had said something else… something about the media. Sehun could never forget that brief vulnerability in his eyes if he tried to burn it out of his mind. It was the very end… he looked so tired. Nothing but ash left in those charred irises. The strong jaw still clenched. He had spat something wretched about the principle of gossip, and for the briefest moment Sehun had felt like a ghost of a hand had taken his and that it was meant for him, the briefest reminder that it was just a game…

And yet, so much fire in those wooden eyes, Sehun had felt the smoke infect his senses. What if Jongin had been speaking the truth, when he laid out sharp-tongued insults one after another like dominoes with razor edges, only to flick them straight into Sehun’s heart? 

But Sehun had been the one to place the dominoes.

Sehun takes a rattled breath.

“God I’m such a fucking brat. It’s all my fault… Jongin… he would have never said such things if I hadn’t started it all…”

He buries his face in his hands - curses and deep breaths staining the mahogany table and leather chairs. He wanted to tear everything apart in a battle against himself. It did no good to point fingers at a mirror unless it saved him. 

~

Jongin

Jongin spends the night at Junmyeon’s for the sake of old times and comfort food, and is woken up the next morning with a breakfast plate and Junmyeon softly ruffling his hair, advising him to go home. 

“You should talk with him face to face. It’s the best way.”

Jongin whines and tries to bury himself under the covers, but Junmyeon manages to wrestle him out and feed him. Jongin is reluctant to leave Junmyeon’s comfortable mansion, so he negotiates his stay by reasoning that he should only leave for Sehun’s when it’s dark enough for him to be unrecognisable. One too many pouts and whines also participate in convincing his best friend.

They both take the day off work and go out for a cozy lunch and a bit of shopping to alleviate Jongin’s spirits. When dusk is just sinking into the city, Junmyeon wishes Jongin good luck and sends him off with one last motherly hug. Jongin slinks back out to his car, reality embedding itself into his pores and expensive car seats, gradually suffocating him on the drive all the way home.

He gets a chance to breathe once he’s inside his shower, under cool water running down his hair, lips, skin, soft scented vapor cocooning him in soft clouds. When his fingertips start to shrivel, he steps out with a heavy sigh and dresses, perfumes. Jongin stays before his bathroom mirror for another thirty minutes of self-prep talk - for good measure.

He would have probably stalled for longer if it hadn’t been for Junmyeon’s incessant texts reminding him that “your masculinity is on the line” or “if you chicken out now you won’t get any chicken next time” and the most terrifying “you better be heading over there right now or I will come over and personally drag you there” . 

Jongin knows what Junmyeon’s extensive friendship is capable of, so he shivers and sends a hurried reassurance in reply before pushing all other doubts at the back of his mind and jumping into his car outside before he can even think of a weakness. As he’s pulling out of his penthouse driveway in his matte black maserati, he has to hand it to Junmyeon for actually getting him out as fast as a sprint. 

Sehun’s address isn’t hard to find, seeing as practically all the richest class live in the same neighborhood in Gangnam - save for Junmyeon who went out of his way to build a full mansion on the outskirts of Seoul. 

All it takes is a quick naver search on his phone and he’s suddenly driving a short ten minutes and pulling up to a dimly lit modern penthouse. It’s already past ten by now, and in the early spring sky, Jongin can make out a trimmed lawn with neat japanese styling, only a couple lights to keep the place more exclusive. There’s a butler at the entrance who makes Jongin introduce himself - identity, purpose - before allowing him to park his car next to Sehun’s sleek red porsche. Jongin feels uneasy when he steps out again, almost like the world is stilted beneath his soles and that it’ll all slip out into the deep navy blue clouds above. 

He pulls up his fur-trimmed hood to cover his face as he’s escorted inside by the said butler. Jongin only gets a glimpse of the sleek interior before they run into Sehun in the entrance. He’s wearing a black coat and hat, and was just finishing pulling on a pair of leather boots when he stops.

Sehun stands when he sees Jongin. First, there’s surprise on his expression, before it melts into something quite less discernible… something between hurt, anger or guilt. Jongin can’t place a finger on it, but he doesn’t have to because then Sehun speaks. 

“I was just going to see you.” 

His voice is so much softer than Jongin remembers. So different from when he’s surrounded by cameras. 

“Well I guess I just made things easier for you.”

Sehun nods in return and starts to take off his coat. “I guess we both realised it was time for a talk.”

Jongin hands his coat to the butler at the same time but doesn’t reply. 

Once the butler leaves, they kick off their shoes and Sehun motions ahead for Jongin to follow. Not a word has left their lips directly for each other since the coffee shop. Milan was an event of screaming looks and a thousand unsaid expressions in pitiful gestures. But here, here they will have to talk.

The tension is a thick soup boiling hot between them - and it seems as though neither dares to touch it for fear of an explosion. 

But once they’re seated in a more secluded lounge - a small chandelier above with sunshine walls and large bean-bags to sit before a cozy fireplace - Jongin is the first to speak.

Surprisingly enough, his first words are “I’m sorry” .

It’s efficient enough for Sehun to look up sharply and any breath of vulnerability is gone as his tone turns into furious frost. And the bubble pops.

“Please, I couldn’t care less about your apologies. My investors are the ones who would be lining up for those words coming from your mouth. But what are you apologising for? Is it for saying that I’m a jerk who parades around with women because they look like trophies on my arm? Or is it for calling me a flat out amateur in fashion? For saying that my company’s style is trash? Am I not good enough for you, Jongin? Or is it for all the above? Tick the box, I’m waiting.”

Jongin scowls. 

“I’m saying sorry for being forced into expliciting lie after lie all because of you. Don’t act like you’re the only victim here, Sehun. If you hadn’t started it off with trying to look so smooth and high-class by attempting to degrade me, I would have never dreamed of saying such things. I have a far bigger company reputation to uphold, and I won’t let a stupidly rigged game to make it crumble. You have absolutely no right to get mad at me, when the only person to blame for starting it all is you.”

“Bullshit.” Sehun snaps, “I thought you were a successful businessman, not a pathetic toddler. Pointing fingers is child’s play, Jongin. You accepted the game. You should know to handle the consequences.”

“I thought I handled it the same way as you. Didn’t you say you wanted a challenge? The Daredevil to gamble his still founding prestige for a place at the top? It was reckless from the start, Sehun. It had to come to an end.”

“If it was so reckless then you would have owned up to it sooner and we would never be in this mess.” 

“How was I supposed to know you would get mad during a simple fashion week and would be determined to ruin my career the minute you step foot home?” Jongin shouts.

“You’re such a fucking drama queen. Ruin your career! What I said could never hold a flame to your blalant insults. I almost left my office yesterday without a single investor left. They were ready to ditch me because of your fucking comments.”

They’re both standing now, glowering over one another with their equally impressive height. Sehun’s slim eyes are narrowed in strong rage. Jongin’s lips are curled into a snarl.

“Sorry that your investors are so weak. Maybe they’re too used to your famously pampered ‘subtilty’ to handle the real world.”

“I can’t believe you scoffed and crowned yourself king of everything sleek and delicate at Junmyeon’s party, yet here you go out dishing insults like a caveman and then call it ‘the real world’. ”

“I’m only keeping up with your rules to your game. You always boasted about wanting a challenge. Welcome to its checkerboard.” Jongin stretches a smile.

“Oh please, you know damn well how I intended on playing this game. You’re just being stubborn and want to see how far you can make it to your advantage.”

“This stupid game holds little to no advantage for me or my company, so that argument is pathetic. And quite frankly, it takes a damn biologist to dissect what you mean, and I’ve ever really had a care for plastic hearts and twisted tongues.”

“I’ve been perfectly clear with things when I intend to. You’re the only one making up scenarios for everything and nothing just to be problematic.”

“Okay, if I’m making everything up, then why don’t you enlighten me directly. Why were you mad in Milan?”

Sehun rolls his eyes. “I don’t think it’s that hard of an answer, and you’d have to be fucking dense to not know it yourself.”

Jongin’s throat tightens. “Were you jealous?”

“See, that wasn’t that hard now was it?” Sehun leers. 

There’s a silence. Sehun’s gaze doesn’t lower, doesn’t waver for a second. It feels like Jongin’s world has been flipped upside down, every single cell in his body frozen on the spot in a distorted universe. He somehow manages to make his voice function.

“Why? I thought it was just a part of the game. It was what we’d agreed.”

“Yeah and I didn’t exactly think you would go off draping yourself over Krystal and start verbally kissing Domenico Dolce’s italian ass for the rest of the fucking night.” Sehun snarls, still livid. Jongin’s mouth reacts before his brain.

“And I didn’t think you would ignore me during the runway and then leech onto Allegra Versace and Danielle and fucking saunter around me like a peacock for the rest of the night, yet here we are.”

Sehun’s lip curls into a slight smirk. 

“Then there’s no point in pointing fingers if the only one to blame is both of us.”

Jongin finally closes his eyes to take a deep breath. His head is pounding with too many emotions against himself as well as Sehun, and he just wants things to be done with. Their time of being childish is up, now the clock shows the reflection of their suits and ties, a reminder of their leather-fabricated lives. He feels the rage simmer away, fray slowly at the edges until his head is clear. He opens his eyes to hold Sehun’s gaze once again - a gaze that has turned inexplicably curious, perhaps soft. It’s an odd appearance for the normally steel look, but perhaps it suits him better, Jongin finds.

“I’m sorry. I took it too far. You didn’t deserve a single word I said on that damned talkshow. You know… you know what I truly think of you. I’m sorry… I’m sorry for hurting you when I promised not to.” 

Jongin’s voice is smaller than he’d like, and there’s perhaps a minute of held breath, of hanging pride that is snapped from its thread when Sehun finally exhales.

“I started the fire in Milan. I couldn’t stand seeing you fondle Krystal in the front row, so I thought I could somehow do the same later…” Sehun’s sigh is rattled, “I don’t know why I did. I’m sorry. You know I never meant a word on that talkshow either? I’m sorry for turning you against me. I never meant to hurt you.” 

It’s there; the very moment Jongin sees the latter’s expression crumble, porcelain cracking in his mind, patched-up fissures falling piece by piece to reveal a raw, fragile interior. A young boy with too many emotions fighting to be concealed, to wrap themselves in every cold inch of snow they can get their hands on… because he’s afraid of getting hurt.  
And Jongin had hurt him.

He steps forwards before he can stop himself, and reaches out to lay a hand on Sehun’s cheek. Sehun doesn’t pull away.

“I could say sorry for years and years and still never actually find the right word to say it properly. But I don’t think that would do either of us any good, now. I’ll ask for you to forgive me for everything I’ve done since the second you saw me at that runway.”

“It’ll only be fair if I ask the same of you.” Sehun leans into his palm only a little, just the hint of a smile on his features. The chandelier light casts his pale skin into a golden glow, warm underneath Jongin’s fingertips. He feels his entire body relax, focuses on the way Sehun’s voice can curl itself into his bones and knead its way into his tense muscles. 

“Apology more than accepted.”

“Forgiveness more than returned.” Jongin can feel Sehun’s lips pull into a smile by the way his cheeks move against his hand. Sehun’s hand, however, is unexpected when it slides tentatively up to also rest against Jongin’s hand. 

“I can’t believe we just invented our own drama just for fun. Who even does that?” He chuckles, warm against their hands. All boiling anger from before has dissipated into thin air, easy and forgiven. 

“Junmyeon says I should tattoo ‘reckless teenager’ on my forehead. I think I could rock it, honestly.”

“I think you could.” 

They laugh. Sehun’s hand is still holding Jongin’s, pulling them gently away from his face. Once a small quiet has settled, they’re both staring down at their hands. Jongin thinks it’s the light again, causing Sehun’s cheeks to dust such a sweet peach. Then again, Jongin’s are no better.

“So… what now?”

Sehun looks back up at him. Jongin can feel his thumb trace a steady pattern on the inside of his palm. 

“Well, I think we’ve already implied enough that this game has just blown up in our faces. It would only do more harm to continue. I don’t think I can bear insulting you on camera any longer.” 

Jongin can only pray that the lighting is dark enough to hide the fire in his cheeks - even though he knows very well that Sehun’s smile is the consequence of seeing it. 

“Same. I thought I was going to have a panic attack after my interview.” He admits, gnawing on his bottom lip. There’s a hand running softly through his hair.

“Did you truly believe what I said on that talkshow, though?” Sehun asks with concern and guilt painted all over his face.

“I was mad at first, but then I told myself that you were just trying to prove yourself better than me, to make the game even harder. So I set out to prove you wrong.” Jongin talks with his eyes still to the ground in shame. 

The hand in his hair glides down his jaw to tilt his chin up. He meets a pair of pain-stricken eyes, perhaps closer than he remembers.

“I’m sorry, Jongin.”

“We’re not going through this again, Sehun. If you keep apologising, I’ll only double it, and we’ll never see the day.”

“If you insist. I’ll just have to make my apologies by other means, then.”

Jongin can see the dim outline of a mischievous grin curl the latter’s lips. The hand on his chin returns to his hair. Soothing. Too soft. Jongin’s breath cuts short. His mind races for a change of subject.

“With no more game as an excuse to see you, what will happen now?”

Albeit, his change of subject may or may not have worsened things for his poor blush, but the surprise on Sehun’s expression is worth it.

“Are you afraid of not seeing me again? Don’t worry, Jongin, I’ll always visit you in your dreams.”

Jongin laughs. “Now, I don’t remember having asked for nightmares.”

“Come now, you know I’m not a devil.”

“Just a daredevil.”

“Just say you’ll miss me, Jongin. It’s okay.” Sehun’s supple hand moves to cup the nape of Jongin’s neck. He then leans closer, pulling Jongin’s hand on his waist as he whispers; “If it helps, I’ll miss you too.”

Jongin’s heart, mind, soul can’t decide whether to fly over the warmth of Sehun’s steady hand on his neck or the way his sweater at the hip is soft cashmere under his palm.

“Who said anything about not seeing each other anymore?”

“You did.”

“Shut up, I can’t think right now.” 

“Do I play with your thoughts, Jongin?” Sehun is only a breath away, mint on his lips as he teases Jongin with a smile. They’re too close to be real, hand heavy on tanned skin, brushing over soft material. Jongin really can’t think of anything else besides the way Sehun’s lips are a succulent pink, or the way mischief dance in those dark eyes below the warm chandelier glow.

“You don’t even have to try. Are you going to kiss me?”

“Maybe. Are you going to stop me?” Sehun’s lips are now in a smirk, but his furrowed brows show that he’s anxious about the answer. Jongin figures he might as well have the last laugh.

“Maybe.”

Sehun frowns. He opens his mouth to say something else, but Jongin stops him by wrapping his arm around his slim waist and moving his hand to soothe his neck, pulling them closer as he says; “But probably not.”

He finally - finally - closes the distance between them in a kiss. Sehun smells of mint and peach - strong yet sweet to Jongin’s lips. The grip in his hair tightens and Sehun’s hand moves to press Jongin’s lower back closer against him. Jongin isn’t sure whose heart is hammering against his chest like that, but it’s enough to leave him breathless. He’s free falling too fast yet perfectly slow, into Sehun’s cologne, into his lips, into him. 

There are teasing tongues brushing the seams, merely a taste of daring promise which neither feel the need to hurry at the moment. Jongin’s fingertips knead small patterns into Sehun’s waist, cradling his firm jaw, savoring the small minty breaths that they share. Sehun’s kisses are languid yet firm, and Jongin melts into every inch of his tongue, lips, skin, hoping that this feeling will always linger underneath his skin, fingertips on his back to warm him during lonely nights. 

They pull apart for fresh air, resting their foreheads against one another. Sehun tilts Jongin’s chin to look at him, eyes twinkling, lips flush. His thumb swipes Jongin’s bottom lip softly as he has the nerve to smirk. “My, my Jongin… Don’t you have a girlfriend to go fondle?”

Jongin raises a brow. “If you want me to go fondle Krystal instead of you, just say so. I could. But something tells me you don’t want that.”

Sehun’s eyes narrow when his grip tightens the back of Jongin’s neck again. “You’re right. I don’t.”

The kiss that follows is much more rough, decisive than before. Every press of Sehun’s lips against Jongin’s, every press of his hand on his back is something of an unsaid possession. _Mine._ Sehun doesn’t allow a single breath of hesitance separate them, makes sure that Jongin doesn’t know what a “Krystal” is when they break apart, panting, lips flush, red, bitten, loved.

“Doesn’t matter, I think I prefer you anyway.” Jongin smiles through tingling cheeks.

“I guessed.” Sehun smiles in return and presses sweeter, chaste kisses to his lips.

“You taste even better than I’d imagined…”

Jongin chuckles through the pecks. “Think about me often, Sehun?”

Sehun hums as he nuzzles his jaw. “Why? Does it turn you on?” 

Jongin’s breath winds him like a storm when he feels teeth grazing softly over his skin. 

“You’ll be surprised to find that it takes more than a suggestive sentence to turn me on.”

“Oh really? Even if it’s in Italian?”

Jongin laughs. “Is that your way of telling me you think Italian is hot?”

“Maybe.” Sehun presses his lips together in a thin smile which Jongin softens by kissing them open, finding the dirtiest things to whisper, his tongue rolling r’s over Sehun’s earlobe, hissing s’s against his lips as he tugs on the latter’s hair gently as the foreign syllables. 

“Hot.” Sehun breathes.

“Glad I can speak italian just for you, aren’t you?”

Sehun nods with a childish smile which Jongin finds frankly quite adorable - until the taller pecks his lips, “Now my turn to find out your weaknesses.”

Jongin laughs but sinks into the soft lips on his collarbones, the gentle hands that roam his back, knead his muscles. Sehun explores glimpses of Jongin’s body like the most mysterious labyrinth. Jongin’s mind follows the trail of thought and leads him to think about how grand the mansion looked, how many corridors and secrets behind those white walls... He remembers passing a long hallway of what seemed to be black and white pictures. Sehun’s teeth graze dangerously along his jaw, drawing a surprised gasp from his victim. Jongin takes the opportunity to pull Sehun back up to him, tracing a finger on the latter’s high cheekbones. Sehun whines at being interrupted.

“Come on, Jongin, that’s just one leverage against you; hardly enough to even count.”

“You’ll have plenty of opportunities to discover all you want, trust me.” Jongin whispers, placing a kiss on his cheek. “What do you have to do in this big mansion all to yourself?”

Sehun smirks. “Why? Expecting a wonderful Red Room with all your darkest fantasies? I’m afraid I don’t have one, but if you want, the room across the hall has a couple fun things -”

He starts chuckling against the hand that Jongin has clamped over his mouth. 

“That sounds like an adventure for another time, but I was actually talking about those pictures in the hallway we passed on the way here. You didn’t give me a chance to admire them.”

“Ah, yes, those. I thought you’d ask about them. My pride collection. Come, I’ll give you a personal tour.” 

Sehun’s voice is muffled and Jongin can feel him grin against his palm. 

Jongin beams and lets Sehun guide him back into the long hallway. Indeed, an endless corridor of stunning runway photographs black against the blinding white walls.

He tenderly runs a finger over the frames while Sehun narrates every picture like an encyclopedia. 

“Coco Chanel’s legendary flapper dress, Paris fashion week 1920.”

“How cute, you thought I didn’t know already.” Jongin flashes Sehun a grin, and “Everything was about the woman’s voice, the outspoken rebels who cut their hair and danced to jazz in smoky clubs. That woman was iconic. Her ideas, her style for class and versatility is something that every designer aspires to recreate in a modern vision.” 

Sehun’s silence draws itself in the form of a small smile as he chooses to admire Jongin’s passion instead. Jongin moves from picture to picture, gasping in admiration as he breathes every snapshot’s history, style, art. 

There’s Audrey Hepburn in Givenchy’s flamboyant dress at the oscars of ‘53, as well as Dolce and Gabbana - Jongin makes sure to spend an unhealthy amount of detail on the particular brand, just to see Sehun roll his eyes and huff in annoyance. Jongin then makes sure to ‘accidentally skip’ Versace’s Fall 1991 dress catwalk - and sniff over Sehun’s following smirk. Jongin raises his eyebrows, however, at a black and white racy lingerie shoot with a stunning model throwing a sultry pout at the camera, with little lace to be modest. 

“Miranda Kerr? Alright, I guess you have taste - I’ll give you that. A bit bold to be in the hallway maybe, but hey, who am I to judge.”

Sehun rubs his neck with a sheepish smile. “I’ve been a fan ever since I was a twelve year-old hormonal teenager. I’m pretty sure I threw a party when she followed me back on Instagram.”

Jongin laughs. “Visibly, things haven’t changed, I see.”

Sehun hums and wraps his arms around his waist. “You can accept this secret of mine, right? You know, now that I think of it, I think I’d almost prefer you in that lingerie…” Jongi gasps and pushes him away - mostly to hide the telltale shade of red creeping to his cheeks. 

“I swear everyone is trying to rid me of my masculinity. I think that’s an image you’d rather not have.”

Sehun chuckles. “Oh, you know you’d look like a god in anything, Jongin.”

Jongin rolls his eyes but the compliment doesn’t serve to cool his blush. “You’re the model, here. Now shush, I’m trying to appreciate your gallery.”

Sehun gets away with one last kiss before Jongin huffs and tries to focus on the rest of the pictures. There are rows of famous models and iconic looks, but Jongin is surprised to find a snapshot of Jongin’s close friend Chanyeol when he represented Tommy Hilfiger as a classic model for a short time. 

He and Sehun laugh in pleasant surprise when they find out that the tall, loving composer is actually a mutual friend of theirs. Sehun says that they met at the very same Hilfiger show, and bonded relatively quickly despite their personality differences. Jongin admits to having met him through Junmyeon, when he was looking for a composer for one of his runways. Chanyeol was actually invited to the famous new year’s eve party, but the solo artist had decided to soak up the sun in the Bahamas rather than the frostbite of Seoul. 

After Chanyeol’s - admittedly, impressive - modeling snapshot, the hallway is blank.

“I’m saving a spot for Nohant’s first Seoul Fashion Week.” Sehun explains with obvious pride. Jongin feigns hurt. “What, not even a place for my line?”

Sehun scoffs. “I thought ‘street trash’ had no place with your high class company.”

Jongin’s face falls. “Sehun…”

Sehun brings him back into his arms, smiling into his hair. “I’m kidding. I know you don’t think that way.”

“I have enough regret to carry without the source reminding me of it…”

Sehun places chaste kisses on his cheek, mumbling soft “sorry”s between each peck. Jongin grins and shakes his head.

“I’d forgive you if you pictured me on your wall.” 

Sehun smirks and does just that - spins them around to pin Jongin against the wall with both hands. “Like this?”

Jongin shakes his head, “Not good enough.” Sehun hums and begins to mouth slowly at Jongin’s earlobe, trailing down his neck. “And now?”

Jongin bites his lip to suppress the sigh at the back of his throat.

“A bit better.”

Sehun laughs into his neck and pecks his nose. “Just for you, I just might consider it.”

“I want a gold frame, then.” Jongin splays his hands across Sehun’s chest and plays with the collar of his sweater.

“Anything for my best rival.” 

Jongin considers it satisfactory, and soon enough he’s pulling Sehun in for a deep kiss. They break apart, Sehun’s lips perfectly plump and bitten as he looks at him through disheveled strands of hair. Electricity thrums at his fingertips. Sehun cages him there with strong hands, and his enticing whisper at his ear is almost enough for Jongin to feel as though the wall will melt beneath him.

“Come on, you can sleep in. The Master bedroom has the best sheets.”

Jongin lets out a caged breath. “I can’t, I really have to go back to work tomorrow.” 

Sehun huffs and buries his head in the crook of his neck.

“Fine. But at least stay for a while. We’ll watch a movie like we’re young and carefree teenagers. With popcorn.” 

The fantasy comparison almost makes Jongin falter with the lingering reality that they’re indeed, far from being carefree teenagers, but instead he pushes it to the back of his mind and laughs into the taller’s chest. “Alright, I’m sold. But pick a cheesy chick-flick and my esteem for you will die faster than a knockoff suit.” 

“I will try not to disappoint.” Sehun kisses his cheek before dragging him to his personal cinema on the first floor. There’s a wide wall to project movies, and an array of couches and pillows for the audience. Sehun admits that he likes a more comfy lifestyle at his personal quarters when Jongin buries himself in mountains of fluffy pillows and blankets. Sehun chuckles and moves to the back of the room to slip in a DVD. He then joins Jongin by tackling him until they’re a giggling mess of tangled limbs and blankets. Jongin finally slaps his arm to quiet him when the opening comes on. 

“James Bond… ah you sure are a man of class, Sehun. I approve.” 

“Told you.” 

Sehun reaches over to murmur something into a button on the table before turning back to the movie. “Popcorn will be here soon.” 

The rest of the movie is spent like so: Jongin exaggerating the noises in crash scenes and Sehun laughing at him through mouthfuls of popcorn. The whole scene is strangely domestic and childish for two multi-millionaires, but they’re both too relaxed and comfortable to truly care. After two hours of Diamonds are Forever and scraping the bottom of the bowl for popcorn kernels, Sehun flips in a second movie, silencing Jongin’s protests with a kiss.

“Fuck Sehun it’s almost midnight.” Jongin whines into the latter’s shoulder. 

“If you have enough time to elaborate every detail about Dolce and Gabbana’s winter collection 1998, you have enough time to watch an iconic action movie.

“Jealousy is never a virtue, Sehun.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Jongin can smirk all he wants but Sehun offers no alternate choice other than watching the second action movie of the night. Jongin vaguely understands something about a spy who’s forgotten his identity but who still manages to kick everyone’s asses out of a tall building with lots of car chase scenes. Albeit, Jongin doesn’t make too much of an effort to follow the twisted plot - certainly not when Sehun’s soft hand is circling the skin at his waist and steady breath soothes his mind in minted sweetness, almost a lullaby.

It’s not until 2am when Sehun wakes Jongin with a playful pinch at his side. Jongin startles to find the credits rolling on the screen. He mumbles something about a great movie before being silenced by Sehun’s chuckling against his lips. 

“Alright alright. I think I’ve made you suffer enough for now. I’ll grant you the liberty of going to sleep in your own bed tonight.” 

There’s a small part of Jongin that protests - tells him that Sehun’s arms are the best blanket and his chest serves better than any pillow at home - but all thoughts about work tomorrow have him sighing and getting ready to stand. Sehun leads him to the back door and only lets him leave after having one last kiss, pressed up against the wall. The kiss is slow, tasteful, impregnating itself wonderfully beneath Jongin’s skin as something to remember when he finally manages to pull on his heavy fur coat, sunglasses and mask, and slip out into the night with a final goodbye.

Jongin’s Maserati is beautifully sleek and silent in Sehun’s outdoor parking space. He thinks he sees a slight flash to his right - somewhere in the bushes. But he shrugs it off as lack of sleep and perhaps a flickering porch light. The gate opens and he speeds out into the twilight to regain sleep in his own bed.

~


	5. Golden steps

Jongin stumbles into the office the next morning with his tie straight, his suit ironed, his hair combed - but the shadows underneath his eyes are demons of the previous night which he doubts will ever be recoverable. His secretary asks him with a worried smile if he’s been stressed lately, and he reassures her by lightly saying that his phone just kept ringing all night before hiding away to hopefully snatch a catnap inside his office.

He’s just beginning to get comfortable on the couch, when his designer flings the door open. Jongin wildly thinks he’ll have to go pick up his heart on the other side of the room with the way it nearly jumped out of his chest at the sound.

“Goddammit Kibum that’s the third time I almost fucking died because of you never knocking.” Jongin groans clutching his chest.

Kibum rolls his eyes before shoving his phone in Jongin’s face. He blows a pink bubble and pops it obnoxiously when he speaks. “You can nap once you’ve cleared up this bullshit scandal that has just about exploded the internet.”

Jongin glares at him but tries to focus on the screen with bleary eyes. He has to blink a couple times before the blurred, dark image and the raging headline adjusts.

_**“Loving competition? Fashion leader Kim Jongin visited ‘rival’ Oh Sehun’s penthouse for a late night together."** _

The rest of the article is written in smaller font below:

_“Rivals or more? Fashion leader Kim Jongin seen leaving ‘rival’ Oh Sehun’s penthouse last night at 2am in a black Maserati, one day after having outright dissed the rising company as well as its CEO. Can one really believe everything they say about each other on camera? Or is there a secret story brewing behind our backs?”_

Jongin’s eyes widen for a split second. The flash, the bushes - they were there…  
His survival instincts push any fear below and he manages to frown at the phone.

“I don’t know what kind of shitty tabloid news you’re following Key, but I suggest you find something of better quality than this mindless trash. I never left my house last night, and please, what business would I have to do with the man after having publicly out-ruled him from the industry? I doubt he’d let me even step foot near his front door, let alone stay until 2am.”

A small part of him hurts to lie to his most trusted designer, but Kibum’s gossip-loving lips could be a bulldozer to Jongin and Sehun’s first relationship blocks.

Kibum sniffs and crosses his arms. “I never said I believed it. I just wanted you to know what was going on in the world since you barely know what Facebook is. And, I’m not the one who needs convincing - you have to organise an interview or something to fight it down.”

Jongin grins in relief when he hands him back his phone. “Thanks, Key. I’ll do just that. Maybe you can help me if I have to post something to clarify on twitter too?”

“God you really are a hopeless grandfather when it comes to social media. I still don’t believe you posted that Milan picture by yourself, you know.”

“If I tell you that Krystal was the one to do it, will you take pity on me and help?”

“I honestly might just do that just because of how much I love and pity you.” Kibum ruffles his hair. “Just tell me what you want to say with a maximum of 200 characters, and I’ll show you how you literally just click ‘post’ and then you’re done and famous."

“Thanks hyung.” Jongin grins when Key sits down and actually guides him through the stupidly simple steps of twitter - and yet Jongin is still thankful that Kibum has the stamina to keep the company updated on the virtual platform of insults and artificial praises. Once Kibum is ushered out of the office because of Junhui’s pestering the designing team about ‘completely barbaric and scratchy material’ - Jongin is given a moment to breathe.

He runs a hand through his hair and groans. One thing after another, he feels like he hasn’t slept without worry in weeks. His office floor echoes with a hollow emptiness yet he can’t shake the impression that there’s always someone watching, camera ready to flash a single mishap. Breathing sounds too loud, forbidden. He bites his lip. Sighs. His phone reads three missed calls from Oh Sehun. Jongin thinks he should maybe change the name for the sake of discretion - but he figures he can dwell on that later. He presses call. The ringing seems too loud and unbearably long, even though Sehun picks up only after the second ring.

“Dear, dear Sehun… What ever happened to secrecy?”

_**“Would you sue me if I was worried? Are you okay? I’m sorry, I should have told my butler something…”** _

Sehun doesn’t say his name. Something about the detail throws Jongin off balance and every pressing second of the call flashes with red and blue lights, screaming a secrecy that Jongin never cared for, up until now.

“It’s not your fault. I wouldn’t want your butler to be for blame either. I didn’t pay attention-”

_**“Alright, I thought he both agreed no good comes into pointing blame if it always comes back in a circle. I think you should be the first to hold an interview to defend yourself and then I can follow.”** _

“What am I supposed to say? What if our stories don’t match?”

Sehun’s voice lowers to a whisper.  ** _“You’re smart, Jongin. You can think of something. I know you can. You won’t panic, not the slightest crack. I’ll be right behind you. And it doesn’t really matter if they match or not, since the whole point is that we have no contact with each other.”_**

Jongin closes his eyes. Sehun’s voice whispered through static only seems to charge it with an electricity that thrills Jongin’s nerves. His name on those lips, hushed with a secret meant only for his ears. His thoughts have cleared, his breathing calmed.

“I just posted something brief on twitter, but I’m going to have an interview today hopefully. God don’t they have anything better to do than follow my life? What about their damned pretty idols - not a single comeback to rage the pages instead of us?”

Sehun chuckles laced with static are still beautiful.  ** _“Beats me. But I guess we have to suck it up and handle things for now. If your interview happens today, it’ll be published tonight and I suspect that someone will be grovelling for a talk with me, so I’ll back you up tomorrow then.”_**

Jongin hums a nod. There’s a pregnant pause, but neither hang up.

**_“I know… it’s even more reckless to call each other… but would you sue me if I said I wanted to hear your voice?”_ **

Jongin smiles. His heart teeters upon rooftops of streaked sunsets - outside, a sky of peach and striped clouds. “I could never be mad at you. You’re definitely worth the adventure of a scandalous tabloid headline.”

Sehun breathes a smile on the other end.  ** _“I’m glad.”_** There’s a murmur, some shuffling on the other end. He thinks he hears a muttered curse from another tongue. ** _“I have to go now, business meeting in five minutes. I’ll see you at the dinner friday then.”_**

Jongin quickly catches onto the improvised script in the face on an intruder. “Yeah, see you then.”

He hears Sehun take a small breath - as if there’s just one last thing on his tongue, heavy and pestering. But someone is calling him from his end, so he simply sighs. **_“Bye.”_**

Jongin is the one to end the call. He stares at the phone for a moment, the call flashing and dying out. He finds Sehun’s name again in the contacts and clicks edit. “daredevil”. Far more fitting.

“Mr. Kim, a journalist would like to hope for an interview with you as soon as available.” His mousey secretary pushes the glasses up her nose from the very edge of the glass doorway. Jongin raises his chin and slowly tucks his phone into his pocket. “Tell them to be here within the hour or the interview goes to another.”

She nods and moves to leave. Jongin stops her short. “Eunmi, dear. Did you just arrive?” Her head nods an affirmative. “And, with all due respect, sir, I think know better than to eavesdrop on private calls. You don’t have to worry.” Jongin’s shoulders relax slightly and he offers her a grateful smile. “Thank you.” He bows and she reciprocates before leaving to notify the journalist.

~

The journalist arrives pointedly 30 minutes later. Round-faced, with an ashen stubble and small lips. His eyes are shaped like marbles - maybe innocent and caring to some - but for Jongin they’re just hard ice, scrutinizing him.

“Do Kyungsoo. Journalist for  _The Joongang Ilbo_. ”

A voice too smooth and deep to belong to someone whose speech is restricted to small toneless characters on paper. Maybe it’s a technique to lure him into trust. The doe-shaped eyes and heart-drawn lips seem so cold before him, but also hold a voice too melodious to ignore. However, Jongin knows better than to even think of being influenced. He challenges the tense stance by smiling and offering a coffee as they sit. The journalist shakes his head, silent. Jongin wonders if the whole thing is just another trap for him to succumb to and to be ripped apart. But he knows how to have an upper hand in the conversation.

“Would you like to begin with the accusations, or shall I?”

The journalist seems offended, his pen suddenly scratching the paper. He then narrows his eyes and clears his throat.

“You already know why I’m here. The honor is all yours. I’m curious.”

Jongin blinks in order to somewhat shake off that voice that coats his ears in honey - a sure fix to steer his tongue and sense. He clears his throat for good measure.

“I suppose I’ll start with the car, since everybody seems to claim to know my black Maserati as Juun J.’s symbol. But, it’s Gangnam. Everybody has at least three cars. Porsche, Ferrari, Lamborghini, Maserati - they’re all common there. I, for one, was feeling casual yesterday; so I used my Mercedes for the day. Ask my butler. Plus, I had been out with my friend during the entire day, and so I was quite exhausted by the time I got home - I can assure you I had little energy to waste going house-hopping. To top it off, those sunglasses and hair mask half the face. You’re smart; I’ll let you assemble facts and tell me - do you really think that is me? What reason would I have to visit Oh Sehun at 2am? After all, you must believe it since you came here to question me.”

Jongin notices that the reporter, Kyungsoo, seems to be recording the conversation, yet there are a couple words dotted on the paper. Kyungsoo doesn’t soften, doesn’t relent. Only purses his lips as he pulls out both a printed and screen version of the image.

“The paparazzi swears to have recognised your tall form and tanned skin in the brief porch light. He saw your car pulling up at Mr. Oh’s penthouse earlier at around 9pm. He can recite the license plate, and confirms it’s yours. He waited in the bushes for you to come out, almost fell asleep waiting until two in the morning.”

Jongin laughs. “You don’t believe me. I just told you I was out for the day and exhausted by the time I got home at around 7pm. I don’t know nor do I have any interest in what goes on in Oh’s life. If you’re going to base your defense off the paparazzi’s witness, it would have been easier to bring the person themselves. Here, the license plate isn’t even shown from this angle. If it’s a paparazzi out for a juicy story, what better way than to simply claim to have seen my license number specifically? Although there are only two pictures, and not a single one shows the briefest resemblance to my features. Plus, waiting for five hours, the poor paparazzi must have been tired and delusional out of their mind.”

For the first time, something akin to a smirk tugs the reporter’s chapped lips into almost a cruel grimace. “Ah but you clearly haven’t seen the most interesting one yet, Mr Kim.”

Jongin is about to snap at him, but Kyungsoo pulls out a third picture that makes him cut short. It’s not spectacular, but it’s one that catches his hair in the light - too soft and hazel to not be recognisable as he bent down to enter the car. Jongin can only bless the italians for making his Maserati with heavily tinted windows, for he remembers taking off the sunglasses and mask later on in the car. He remembers himself and turns to the reporter with a raised brow.

“This is the most interesting you have to offer? If it were for a better lighted picture where the person took off their mask and glasses, I might have been impressed and understood your accusations. But this is too weak. Am I really the only one in the entire city of Seoul to have healthy hair? Please, it’s a basic model secret. I don’t believe any of this is enough proof to confuse this person’s identity with mine. You seem smart, and I don’t think an overly salted story like this is meant for you. Why did you come?”

Kyungsoo sets the recorder aside - the recording button still pulsating - and leans forwards. He tries to scrutinize every breath of fragility on Jongin’s expression or manner - but Jongin offers none. Cold expression, hands relaxed, shoulder straight. The reporter’s eyes then trail to Jongin’s neck - and it’s only then when Jongin feels his composure teeter, for he knows that the tendons in his neck always tense when he’s nervous. He coughs. Kyungsoo leers.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe that person in the photo isn’t you, maybe you’re not the only person in Gangnam to own a black Maserati, maybe there’s someone else out there with that famously styled hair - but that’s not what I’m curious about. The two of you seem to have an interesting relationship. Starting from Kim Junmyeon’s New Year’s party, to Milan, talkshows… something about the whole thing always seemed staged - I found - and so these pictures were… interesting. You say I’m too smart to be doing this kind of story, but I say you’re too laid-back to spit venom at another company or CEO for mere superficial stories-”

“You know nothing about me.” Jongin snaps.

The reporter cocks his head. Jongin feels heat scrape his skin, burn his tongue with rage. “Just because you can see me smile, laugh, talk through your camera lens, means absolutely nothing. You have no idea who I am. You’ve never talked with me over a cup of coffee nor have you ever seen me at home relaxing on a rainy weekend. You have no idea who I am yet you dare saunter into my office and claim to know my thoughts based off a pixelated, dark picture and shallow talkshow words? You know nothing outside of your reports, your papers, your camera, so you have no right to try to conclude that I’m too ‘laid back’ to have any anger at all.”

Kyungsoo hums. Scratches something off his paper. “I guess I don’t. I’m sorry if you feel that way. But can I ask you something, personal, then?” Every muscle in Jongin’s neck is tensed, lips curled in anger.

“I don’t believe that’s the job of a reporter.”

The latter breathes a laugh and turns off the recorder. “It isn’t.”

He turns back to Jongin. “Do you truly hate Oh Sehun?”

“His company intends on threatening my position in the industry. Of course I hate them.”

“That’s not the question. I asked if you actually hate Oh Sehun, the person, the CEO.”

“I’ve never had any personal contact with the man. I can’t give you any answer you expect to hear.”

“I expect nothing.”

“As I said, I’ve never had anything personal with him past business slanders.”

Kyungsoo leans back in his chair. “Homosexuality in the fashion community is almost a trend. But if exposed, it will probably still ruin your company.”

Jongin narrows his eyes. “Is that a threat, sir?”

“I’m not out to ruin you, Mr Kim. Just a warning.”

“After all I’ve already said to you, that seems like quite the sudden accusation.” Jongin hisses.

“You’ve already said enough about my lack of proof. I respect that. I respect your privacy also, and I won’t prod anymore.”

“Tell me why the sudden statement about gay culture when I’ve never said anything even remotely close.”

“Like I said, I respect your personal life, but I’m still allowed to have my own conclusion on things, even if they aren’t printed. I’m probably not the only one who thinks so.”

“You seem smarter than the rest. I would be worried if I actually did have something to hide. I’m in an established relationship with Krystal, and I don’t think she would be very happy if she found out that there were such negative accusations of my sexuality.”

Kyungsoo smirks once more. “Just a personal thought, Mr Kim. It has no dangerously solid substance, nor proof - maybe just like this photograph. It won’t hurt you as long as it stays that way.”

He then stands, pockets the recorder, pen and paper. Jongin makes no move to see him out. “I believe you’re in no position to make threats against me, sir. I can assure you I have no intention on exposing something that isn’t real.”

The reporter proffers a twisted smile. “Well, I hope things play in your favor then. I’ll be seeing Mr. Oh this afternoon for his defense on the scandal…”

Jongin’s laugh is dry. “Don’t you all get tired of searching for petty stories about celebrities? I’m not even a damn idol, and this is what people want to read?”

“When somebody is famous, beautiful, young, successful, more people are going to want their downfall because it’s the only way to make them feel better about themselves.”

“So why feed them?”

Kyungsoo shrugs. “Being a journalist is the middle bridge. You get to have some kind of insight on the people, a glimpse past cameras and rumors. And you ask yourself if your theory is true or not, if it will please the public and get your pay or not.”

“And do you think your theory about me will earn you a high pay?”

“I’ve already said that I can’t do anything that isn’t solid proof. I’m not out to destroy you. I just want to see how accurate my perceptions are. Maybe I’ll get my answer this afternoon.”

“I’ll wish you good luck - because the answer you’re looking for doesn’t exist. However, you will see that his side will be as truthful as mine, and this entire scandal will be proved fake and worthless.”

Kyungsoo bows, but it’s not good enough to hide the proud smirk on those royal lips. “Have a nice day.”

Jongin inclines his head, but makes no move to see him out. The door closes and the reporter’s brisk, dark figure disappears down the hallway. Jongin’s jaw is still clenched. There’s another emotion beginning to simmer in his throat… It feels like a strange jittery fear, crawling, dragging his thoughts around and around the reporter’s cruel grimace and lying threat - a breathing beast in the chair before him.

The fashion industry has always been a cushion for his sexuality which he’s cradled in in peaceful silence ever since his first weeks in ESMOD. In Tokyo, among many gay friends, swathed in the cocoon of silk fabric and designing pearls, Jongin had been plenty comfortable with accepting the fact that he liked boys and girls, and that it served no obstacle for his designing promotions but rather the opposite.

His best friend threw a party for the whole campus to celebrate when Jongin, with his tasteful exotic skin and shy persona, revealed that he liked both genders. Come to think of it, it was coincidentally the very night when he lost his virginity to the same gender. Kibum still pesters him and takes great pride in having ‘helped his best friend get that dick’.

All in all, ESMOD had been a pampered dream. With his graduation, his launch of a new brand back in Korea, he had to suppress his attractions and place the clothes first. Superficial, perhaps, but fashion was his dream and if seeing essentially girls was all it took for his brand to be at the top, it was a small sacrifice he could manage. It’s no secret that Korea hated (and still hates) any homosexual scene. Gay bars were practically always empty, save for a couple older men with drunken leers and rough hands.

After a couple years, he’d somewhat abandoned trying to satisfy his previously balanced preferences, since it had become one of the rare luxuries that he couldn’t afford. Krystal and him were indeed, girlfriend and boyfriend in some sorts; good friends who had good sex, but it was always a very open relationship, and in their years of being together not once has there ever been a problem of jealousy or cheating scandals. She’d been his prized mask throughout the years of the company’s rise, and he would be forever grateful for that. Especially once he began to have a reputation, more and more headlines, more and more praise, hate, cameras, reporters, scandals...

But then there was Sehun. Sehun. Dyed blonde hair, rich suits. Impeccably cold features warm to the touch. Deep voice melting on his skin, smirking lips sweet under his own… Sehun.

He was the first to make Jongin feel that same thrill of dangerous attraction that he’d discovered in college. Loving a man is so different than a woman. There are no soft curves like Krystal’s breasts, or her sweet thigh and tiny frame to cradle.

There’s lean muscle, enticing ridges of cartilage and sharpened jaws, even more pleasure when one manages to draw a quiet moan from firm lips and stone expressions. Jongin had forgotten the adventure of it all. Now, he’s had a taste of paradise once again, but he’s drunk from the lion’s den.

The anxiety is still skittering underneath his skin. The reporter’s words claw at his veins. It’s a threat, a dare for him to be reckless one more time just to be caught. Sehun’s side of the story will finalise the whole thing, that much is sure, but will the reporter do the same to him? Will he turn off the recorder and proffer a judgemental smile as he waits for Sehun to somehow confirm his theory? Will that be enough to solidify his belief and use it to blackmail them?

The korean media has an electrical impulse of shutting down anything lgbt and classifying it as ‘taboo’. His company will lose all prestige, nobody will dare enter a store with their name. Fashion shows will be empty, and the other companies will grab the opportunity by the throat and force it to their advantage. Jongin could lose everything because he kissed another man. His rival, at that.

He groans. He’s in no mood to talk to anybody today. Not Junmyeon, not Kibum, not Krystal. All he can imagine is the warmth of rich arms, bleached hair and breathy teases in his ear. He aches for the comfort from the only other person who truly understands his situation at the moment. He craves it, yet everything says he shouldn’t have it. It’s too selfish. He can indulge himself in piles of money and as much liquor or clothes he can dream of, yet it would be selfish to even think about loving someone he actually wants for once.

He itches to reach for his phone, call Sehun, text him, anything. He finds himself desperate for some kind of reassurance that for once, he’s not alone among cameras and ruthless rumors. On the table, he visualises a choice of two different passions before him: heart or design. But the reporter’s echoing words chain his hands in unforgiving iron and bind him to the office chair.

~

It’s only four days later when Jongin’s phone rings at midnight. He’s ready to thoroughly chew out whoever dared wake up his three yappish dogs, but the nickname flashing on the screen is enough to make him settle. He hushes the small dogs as they all clamber onto his lap. He finally picks up the call.

He hears Sehun breathe out a sigh of relief on the other end.

_**“I was worried you wouldn’t be awake.”** _

“I almost wasn’t - you woke up my dogs by the way.”

Sehun chuckles.  _ **“Sorry, I couldn’t call earlier…”**_

“Don’t apologise, I can’t hold a grudge against you for running a company. I know it’s hard work.” Jongin closes his eyes. “But I’ll admit, I missed your voice.”

**_“Glad to know I’m not the only one.”_ **

Jongin smiles and his favorite poodle, Jjang Gu, licks his hand. “So, how are things?”

**_“A lot is going on, actually, and it might be a little more than expected… Nohant’s going to throw an open house around the end of May. Some jerk apparently went on an anti-Nohant rant, so now I have to pick up the pieces and turn a shabby warehouse into the coolest street hub in Seoul.”_ **

Jongin sighs into the phone. “That’s actually really great though. And you know I’m sorry.”

He can guess the latter’s smile by the breath of static, the soft voice.  ** _“I know you are. But my investors are smart, they saw it an an opportunity to turn the buzz to our advantage. Besides, I always thought that the warehouse needed some re-decoration. I liked your idea of glass walls, you know. Very flashy.”_**

“Why do I feel like you’re thanking me.”

_**“Maybe I am.”** _

“I’m relieved then. Polishing Nohant’s name should be a breeze for you now. You’ll do well. You deserve the positive buzz for once. I deserve soap in my mouth.”

Sehun laughs on the other end.

**_“It’ll be fun to do some arranging - like throwing a party. As for your mouth, I prefer it with those sweet peppermints of yours.”_ **

“Teasing praise. You torture me. I wish I could come…”

_**“I wish you could… I even have a special surprise for you.”** _

“A surprise?”

Sehun hums.  ** _“You’ll have to watch the live videos of the open house, but you’ll love it.”_**

Jongin plays with his dog’s sleepy ears. “I could never do anything else when it comes to you.”

**_“Smooth words, Jongin, you made me blush.”_ **

“You’re not the only one who knows how to flirt here.”

**_“I’ve known that for a while now, Jongin, don’t worry.”_ **

Jongin grins and stretches. “So what kind of surprise?”

**_“Well, I don’t know if you’re aware, but the definition of surprise usually includes the idea of the concerned person not expecting a certain event, and is - wait for it - surprised when it happens!”_ **

“I thought I’d give it a try, at least.”

**_“I don’t give in so easily. The only thing I’m going to regret is not being able to see your reaction…”_ **

Jongin whines, “Stop being such a tease, it only makes me more curious.”

Sehun chuckles.  ** _“Maybe if you came to see for yourself, it would make that damn reporter write his story and move on.”_**

Jongin’s ears perk, a ball seizes his throat. “Oh yeah, tell me about him. Kyungsoo… short but intimidating type. What did you say to cover the story?”

**_“I told him that I had a cousin over for the week, and he had to leave for an early morning flight, and that he was tall and tanned and wore the mask since he’s allergic to pollen… whatever. I think he believed it so that’s not really what I’m worried about. He looked like he couldn’t care less about it. He seemed to be more focused on us. Almost sounded like he doubted me and the whole, bigger story. He’s not buying it. He had this strange, analytical look in his eyes. He kept looking for me to break. One time he even said something about exposing me… Jongin, are you still there?”_ **

Jongin hums. His chest is tight with the same crawling anxiety - the fear of the same threat hurting Sehun as well. He doesn’t dare press about the darker side of the interview over the phone while they’re both tired after a long day. He cuddles Mong Gu and drags out a sigh for good measure.

“Yeah, sorry. Your story is good. Kyungsoo… he seemed tough. The whole thing was… weird. I don’t know… I’m tired.”

 ** _“I know. Get some rest, we’ll talk another time.”_ **There’s another cliffhanging pause - just like last time. Jongin holds his breath, scrambles the static for hopeful last words. Sehun sighs. **_“Sleep well, Jongin. Try not to miss me too much.”_**

“You always ask the most impossible things.”

Sehun chuckles deep and warm. “ ** _I let myself ask impossible things of you because it’s a way of convincing myself that I’m not the only one struggling. You’d be surprised how many times I have to force myself back to focus after seeing a trenchcoat pass by.”_**

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you that I wanted to see your photo gallery again. I can’t look at blonde hair without doing a double take.”

**_“Oh I believe the photo gallery isn’t the only thing you want to see. You know, the more I think about it, the more I’m curious about seeing if you really can wear lace better than Miranda Kerr.”_ **

Jongin’s skin feels licked by the flames of Sehun’s voice, breathy through static.

“I’m offended. Do you really doubt me?” Jongin clicks his tongue for show, “I guess I’ll just have to prove myself sometime again.”

**_“I’m eager to find out.”_ **

“Good-night Sehun. Dream of me.”

**_“I’ll never sleep if I do. Too many things to imagine.”_ **

“I’m sure you can manage.”

**_“I’ll try just for you. Now, didn’t you just say something about being tired?”_ **

“I’ll miss your voice too much if I close my eyes.”

**_“You’re really selfish, stealing my heart and then my sleep - I can’t close my eyes without seeing you next to me.”_ **

Jongin’s heart doesn’t rationalize - almost hurts by how hard it presses against his rib cage, aching to reach through the phone and pull Sehun’s arms back around his waist. Sleep draws lead into his bones yet he’s not ready to leave the promise of Sehun’s deep voice and soothing words.

“Because we both ask the impossible from each other. Guess neither of us will sleep tonight. Shame.”

**_“Maybe our chances will be higher if one of us hangs up.”_ **

“That’s wishful thinking.”

**_“You always seemed to be a dreamer.”_ **

“I prefer dreaming with my eyes open. It’s the easiest way to see you.” Jongin betrays himself with a yawn.

Sehun laughs.  ** _“Sleep now, Jongin. We’ll talk again.”_**

Jongin’s eyes are already slipping closed as he sighs. “Good-night, Sehun.”

The call ends with a dull sound, but the traces of Sehun’s voice laces Jongin’s skin with enough clarity to lull him into a deep sleep.

~

 

Jongin’s job then piles up all at once, engulfs all his time in a tsunami of papers and business meetings. He spends too much time in his office reviewing offers, approving or rejecting designs that become spotted with careless coffee stains, paper cups loitering his desk.

The sky outside is streaked with a heavy grey mist for the entire month, the rain flying and dragging down the window with wet claws. Jongin’s skin feels intoxicated, decomposing from caffeine and the fluorescent light that thrums artificial energy throughout the impossibly long nights of rearranging and choosing materials with Kibum and Junhui in the design warehouse. Jongin is hardly granted a minute to think about the Paris offer, hardly an hour to sleep, not a second to text Sehun.

Jongin has always hated the month of May. The weather is usually a cheerful friend to alleviate the oppressive ink that blots the hundreds of pages and that blurs his mind, but this year seems to want him to drown in every possible spring stress, the daisies’ blooming summer perfume sinking in the unexpected rains. The month flies by with only a maximum of four texts exchanged with Sehun - for the latter also had as much work as Jongin, maybe double if one were to add all the preparations for the open house. Jongin’s head spins with fabricated stuffing - work work work - but Jongin craves for something real again, like the late night phone conversations or even the lost wisp of breathy laughs on his neck.

The last Saturday of the month, Jongin finds himself whittled down to a hollow shell of exhaustion, a ghost framed by grey sweatpants and messy hair that lazily haunts the large mansion with dragging feet. His eyes can barely focus on the notification that pops up on his screen, but as soon as he can read it again, it’s a sigh of relief that cleanses his aching chest.

Saturdays for Jongin are usually days of walking in cherry-blossomed parks, or dancing at the old studio until his muscles groaned, or spontaneous shopping trips with Kibum - sometimes even a quick jet flight with a celebrity or two to wherever the pin lands on a holed map.

But today, lounging on his king-sized bed with a plate of food and live videos of Nohant’s open house is the perfect remedy for a month’s stress.

The cameras pan over to reveal a perfectly grunge, aesthetic building with half of the fans posing dramatically for filtered Instagram posts. Jongin missed the actual grand opening - fault to his stubbornness of never being early for anyone - consequently missing the quickly posted scene of Sehun standing at the high balcony inside, greeting the crowd as though he were the Great Gatsby. A lavish sight, but Jongin figures he’ll have the pleasure of seeing him again - the white prince under a canopy of flowers and secret smiles.

Jongin’s more competitive side still has to applaud Nohant for pulling off such a grand event with utter taste in the specific style. There’s upbeat hip hop music, a showcased VIP lounge for all the iconic street style idols to simply relax and look good in Nohant’s clothes for the fans. Jongin recognizes a couple from wild party nights, and is furthermore impressed with Sehun’s specific choice of invitees.

There are various sectors of the renovated warehouse; design, business, information, historic, material, a small cafe and even a large idea board for people to pin their thoughts or innovative ideas for Nohant’s next line.

The clock strikes 4pm, and it’s the moment everyone has been waiting for: the runway. The lights seem to dim, and Jongin hears a muffled static - maybe a megaphone - announce the company’s clothes from beginning to present day.

He can hear all the people shuffling and grabbing their cameras to catch the idols and models who have just begun to strut down the runway in the center of the warehouse. Each and every one are golden frames for the perfect paintings of textile colors and dangling accessories, Jongin can’t help but nod an approval.

The clothes will certainly never be those to see the light at a Paris fashion week, but Nohant does simply fine by stunning and inspiring the korean youth. Jongin’s trained eye analyzes every cloth or fit that passes by - an interesting use of earrings, damn velvet caps, of course those will sell like wildfire. I wonder, what kind of cotton is that? The dye gives it a unique effect. Silk pants, nicely flared too… that shirt could do the model well with only a couple more rips on the chest, he looks pretty muscular - ah, she’s probably anorexic poor thing, but at least the clothes don’t show it too much… are those diamonds?

Jongin’s analytics are interrupted when the crowd gasps and the camera’s view plummets until the screen is a murky black. Jongin panics and is ready to click on another live in a second, but suddenly the video whips back into focus-

Surprise

The image clears into a breathtaking view of Sehun lapping up every light and eye as he strides down the runway, brilliant dignity on his expression. Every camera is turned, double the flashes of before. It’s the first time Jongin has actually seen Sehun model but he certainly doesn’t intend on it being the last - he thinks, chest swelling with a fierce pride as Sehun’s sharp gaze lands on every person, challenging every flashing camera and reporter, daring anyone to step up against him.

His footprints leave gold dust on the runway, catwalk carefully calculated, delicately placed. Of course, the clothes are probably the collection’s best of the season. Short boots to flaunt the skinny jeans that mould his long legs like molten bronze. The belt hangs agonizingly low, and the shirt is slashed just enough to expose a flash of marble muscle. The light material ripples down his long torso, silken water on his body. He’s wearing a loose choker, the closing chain dangling tactfully at the front, and the look is finished with the ever so elegant black writer’s hat, carefully tousled strands of snow hair falling from underneath, strong kohl eyes never leaving the horizon point.

Jongin’s lips break into a grin when he notices how the coat he’s wearing is indeed none other than a classic trench coat. It frames his lean silhouette better than any golden masterpiece, the way he carries it out with a definite manly class that Jongin has only seen on rare model talents. Oh Sehun walks the catwalk like the boldest of lions pawing his newfound earth, plush coat golden rich with promise, sweet success threading his crowned mane with nimble fingers, striking features.

Jongin is too enamoured with the CEO’s modeling to even realize that he’s already reached the end of the runway, slowing purposefully as he juts out his chin and swivels back around, the trenchcoat revealing itself to be strangely light around the edges as it dances around and flies after him like a powerful current. The crowd applauds and whistles, and Jongin isn’t one to miss the slightest twitch of a smile that flits across Sehun’s face when he walks back to the end curtain. Jongin’s first instinct reaches for his phone.

**_You were right - not half bad for a surprise._ **

Jongin doesn’t expect an immediate answer, but Oh Sehun never fails to amaze.

  ** _\- You liked it?_**

I loved it. You owned every second. Everything was perfect - even the trenchcoat.

**_\- So many compliments, I might not even need powdered blush now. I’m glad you liked it. Keep watching, I’m going back on soon ;)_ **

**_Go get ‘em daredevil_ **

Jongin couldn’t force the smile from his lips even if he tried. The following clothing lines seemed to only get better and better as the runway portrayed each passing year, the evolution of Nohant’s material and style noticeable in the various arrangements and outfits. Either they had planned more models than expected, or Jongin is simply too impatient to see Sehun catwalk flawlessly again. He keeps jumping at the slightest glimpse of dyed blonde hair - dear god he’s so whipped.

He mutters a curse and decides to stretch his legs just to let himself breathe for a minute because the image of Sehun sauntering down that runway in all his glory ignited a flare of pride and perhaps - ashamedly - a spark of arousal. Jongin has always been too easy to awe over beautiful things - clothes, people, art. Sehun is just too much the perfect painting framed with golden clothes, and Jongin’s breath is cut short every time.

Sehun comes back on for the current fourth year of Nohant, causing yet again a whirlwind of pictures, modeling this time high combat boots, ripped jeans as the bottoms. Interesting labels and names dangle from the loose shirt that only suits to frame his legs even more so, covered by a royal red bomber jacket with japanese characters inked along the sleeves in splattered black and slashes of silver. The colors are coordinated to the very last earring, white hair contrasting sharply yet perfectly with the ensemble as it’s styled up for the classy street confidence which he masters.

Jongin’s cheeks hurt from grinning so much, but the overwhelming pride that fills his chest is too wonderful to suppress. He doesn’t even know how it all started - when professional tension mingled with respect, which blurred into admiration, which now clouded his senses with rose filters, inked with the latter’s name on every petal.

Jongin can almost hear Junmyeon chanting how whipped he is in the background, but nothing else matters when Sehun models his clothes with a confidence hard and brilliant, cloth turned to liquid gold on his body.

Sehun calls that night, tired but obviously pleased. Jongin listens to his entire recount of the event with a smile on his lips, dogs nuzzling his arms as Sehun talks about all the preparations, the ditzy idols and the poor few who even tried to flirt with him in vain. Jongin chuckles and lets slip something about Sehun being his - something perhaps possessive and sudden - but to his secret delight the latter only laughs and repeats the fact, deep voice affirming and decisive - oh how Jongin could listen to him all day.

**_“All yours Jongin. And I hope you know that same goes for you - I don’t want a single one of Krystal’s fingerprints on you next time.”_ **

A blush creeps onto Jongin’s neck. It’s a phrase worthy of being tattooed on his arm - maybe even his tombstone - because damn he never wants to forget it.

“I can assure you that I just spent a whole hell month and Krystal hardly crossed my mind for a second of it all. You take up a lot of space, you know.”

 ** _“Ah, you too then. Why don’t we go out this week? It’s been too long.”_**  There’s a heartbeat. They both blurt at the same time “I miss you.” They laugh. Jongin sighs. “So where do you want to go?”

**_“Next friday. I’ll send the directions to your chauffeur so that you won’t be spoiled anything.”_ **

“Should I always expect this many surprises from you?”

**_“I’m a man of many tricks. Expect the unexpected.”_ **

“But I won’t know what to wear!”

 ** _“You look good in anything, Jongin.”_**  he seems to think for a second.  ** _“But dress sexy - don’t worry, it shouldn’t be that hard.”_**

“You praise me too much.”

_**“So do you, hush now.”** _

Jongin rolls his eyes. “Alright, fine. I’ll tell my chauffeur to ‘expect the unexpected’ directions from you. Should I go incognito at all?”

**_“Fuck no. There’s no way I’m letting you show up covered for a single second for the sake of the press. It’s fine.”_ **

Jongin really doesn’t know how to answer that, only notes the fact that the statement stirs something undoubtedly heated in his gut. He clears his throat.

“Okay. What time should I leave?”

**_“9pm?”_ **

“Works for me.”

Sehun sighs on the other end.  _ **“Good. I think we definitely both need a de-stress.”**_

“I know I do. God I can’t wait to see you again.”

**_“One week, Jongin. Promise it’ll be worthwhile.”_ **

“Anything with you is worthwhile.”

**_“We’re both pretty amazing, I’d say.”_ **

“Agreed.”

Sehun breathes a laugh.  ** _“I’m afraid if I keep dragging this call on, I’ll only want to see you more.”_**

“Same. Should we sleep?” Jongin yawns - he really hates it when that happens.

**_“I think we should.”_ **

“Goodnight Sehun. Dream of me.”

__**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**“You know I always do. Sleep well, Jongin.”** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ _

The call ends, the dull ringing now a little more chipper to Jongin’s tired consciousness as he slips into a heavy sleep, having finally something to anticipate when the sun rises and Sehun’s words are imprinted in his mind. One week.

~


	6. Save me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drown me in liquor,  
> Engulf me in your wildfires,  
> Kiss me alive again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse the weirdly aired formatting, ao3 is out to get me :,(

Friday finally comes - the rest of the week seemingly dragging on one last time merely for the sake of Jongin’s baited breath. Jongin is then too surprised when his chauffeur announces that they should leave in around an hour or so, and Jongin has just stepped out of the shower, hair like a wet dog and clothes strewn across the floor. He rushes through shirts, pants, Gucci, Fendi, Givenchy, Tommy, Dior, D&G - even considers his own Juun J.’s line, of course - but the whirlwind of clothes eventually settles when the perfect outfit lands in his hands. 

 

He grins at his reflection. The shirt is loose enough to tuck into his pants, the collar ripped to the side to show off his collarbones, hanging by his neck like a choker. Sehun will most certainly be pleased. The clock reads 8:30pm, but of course Jongin has to “forget to bring his wallet” and “can’t find his favorite cologne” - so it’s only at 9:30 when Jongin finally gets into the car, deciding to indulge on his stubborn law just this once for Sehun. 

 

The chauffeur doesn’t let Jongin see the address, but the smirk on his lips doesn’t go unnoticed by Jongin’s anxious eyes. 

 

~

 

Sehun had kindly forgotten to precise that the place was a good hour outside of Seoul, so it’s well late when Jongin’s chauffeur finally slows the Mercedes in  a neighborhood whose filthy name crawls under his skin. It leads to a narrow alleyway, graffiti leering with neon paints and crumbling messages in the dark. 

 

The chauffeur chuckles at Jongin’s disgusted expression. He offers to wait, but Jongin shakes his head and sighs, telling him he can go home to sleep for once. The chauffeur thanks him and wishes him good luck with a wink when Jongin steps out of the car. A cat darts out from a hole and hisses at him as the Mercedes disappears into the obscure night. Jongin wraps his arms around himself to keep the wind from biting his skin. 

 

“Perfectly late. Nice place huh?” 

 

Jongin jumps at the all-too familiar voice. Sehun is leaning against a lamp post, fluorescent light casting shadows across his pale features, pink lips. 

 

“I’m thinking you better give me a good reason for bringing me to the end of the earth and risking getting mugged.” 

 

Jongin snaps, frowning as he picks his way along the alleyway, closer to Sehun’s tall figure. Sehun laughs, steps closer, now left with only the thin moon to kiss his soft skin. He wraps an arm around Jongin’s waist, lips on his ear. “Come on, I know you missed me just as I did. Here, at least we can have all the fun we want without any press.” 

 

Jongin hums, hardly trying to resist the way he melts so easily into Sehun’s arms. 

 

“What kind of fun though?”

 

“Too many questions, Jongin. Just kiss me, it’s been too long.” Sehun breathes onto his skin - sweet and hot and perfect, and Jongin can’t do anything else but smile, tilt his head to engulf Sehun’s lips in a deep kiss. God, how a month can feel like more than three lifetimes. Sehun’s lips, touch, steals Jongin’s breath like it’s the first time again, and everything comes rushing back to him, pulsing in his blood when Sehun’s large hand presses against the small of his back and Jongin wraps his arms around his neck like it’s his home. They break apart - still only a breath away, smiles dancing on their lips. 

 

“God I’ve missed you.” Jongin’s breath, unbelieving, intertwining them closer with every press of fingertips against his skin, every hitches of the breath. Sehun smiles, wide and genuine.

 

“I know.” Sehun nuzzles his nose, sweet as candy. “Now, let’s go see my second surprise for the week - it’s getting cold out here.” Sehun lead him around the corner with an arm around Jongin’s waist, thumb rubbing circles on his hip as they walk in silence, Jongin’s clouded mind already starting to clear like a spring morning.

 

They stop in front of a tattered rope line, with only a few people loitering the entrance, casting narrowed looks at the pair through the shadows. Sehun dismisses them all and turns his attention to the burly security guard that blocks the entrance. 

 

His chest covers half the door, steel muscles almost breaking the skin. There’s a nasty colored tattoo that wraps around his neck and glares at the two from the neon sheen that flickers above. The grin that tugs at his dried lips looks more like a painful grimace more than a smile, but he greets Sehun with cheerful recognition nonetheless.

 

“Sehun! Glad to see you back. Who’s your friend?” His voice scratches Jongin’s ears like nails on a blackboard. Sehun tightens his hold on Jongin’s waist ever so slightly and smiles.

 

“This is Jongin, we need a breather for the night. Busy month and all that, work is a bitch you know.” The security guard nods slowly, eyeing Jongin with a curious expression. “Well, you know your way around enough - have fun.” Jongin juts his chin in response. Sehun laughs and throws the guard a wink when he opens the doors. “Don’t worry, you know I always do.”

 

Jongin isn’t given a chance to question Sehun about the exchange because all of a sudden they’re thrust into a club, flashing lights and strange outfits blurring around them. There are odd silhouettes drifting between the thrumming bass and smuggled smoke, drinks sloshing over sugar-rimmed glasses. 

 

“Ready to have fun?” Sehun hums in his ear, and Jongin feels like it’s all he needs for the electricity to simmer in his nerves.

 

“Treat me to a drink?” Jongin looks at the latter through his lashes and Sehun grins before pulling them to the bar.

 

“Kris, my man. Two of my favorites, please.”

 

The bartender looms at an impressive height- at least a head taller than Jongin. Sharp eyes, piercings ornating his ear and matching in color with his dyed hair, he looks every bit the intimidating gangster, with large hands made to mix alcoholic poisons as a hobby. 

 

But his features are surprisingly soft when he winks at Sehun as busies himself with pouring suspicious cocktails. In less than nothing, he slides their cocktails over as Sehun pays. The liquor is a turquoise blue, and it’s glowing. 

 

“Club secret, but I can tell you that it tastes like electric fruit.” Kris smiles at Jongin, who laughs in return. “If it’s Sehun’s favorite, I suppose you must be good.” 

 

“Trust me, this club is the best around, and hires only the best. Kris for the drinks, and just wait until you see the  _ dancers. _ ” Sehun smirks as he sips at the drink. Jongin’s gaze darts to the stage as truth ebs into his consciousness; they were at a strip club. He takes a heavy sip of the strange drink. It’s cool and refreshing down his throat, feels like an explosion of passionfruit and lime and mangos and everything tropical and sweet with a lingering aftertaste of dangerous vodka. 

 

“Keep an eye out for Tao. He’s going all out tonight.” Kris winks at Jongin. 

 

Sehun laughs and stands to pull Jongin to a booth closer to the stage. “When doesn’t he? You know I never miss a show.” 

 

They slide into the open booth and Jongin only realises his glass is empty when his throat feels dry from the loss of liquor. He frowns at the bottom of his glass, when the lights on the stage flash in an entrance, and the audience starts to cheer. Sehun’s hand is resting on his thigh, pale hand heavy on his jeans.

 

“You should model for Versace someday.”

 

“I knew you’d like these pants.” 

 

Sehun laughs. “I like them because they fit you like a second skin. But it’s cute that you thought of me.”

 

“Versace isn’t half bad, but that’s because I only model for you.” Jongin skips his lips across Sehun’s jaw. 

 

Sehun hums returns the kiss just when the famous dancers grace the stage. There are two girls, exquisite in their bodies and sensual moves. Costumes are merely suggested with lines of laced fabric or dazzling beads draped over smooth skin, disappearing into sultry expressions. The girls draw the crowd’s attention to the stage for a while, rolling rewarded paper money over their curves in time with the music. There’s a bass drop, and a third dancer appears on stage. The crowd seems to know him already - seeing as they holler in anticipation. He’s wearing a long jacket, which the girls slowly strip away, revealing every toned muscle under flawless skin. With only a bow-tie and impossibly tight shorts to cover neck and pelvis, he grins and begins rolling his hips, abs tensing under the stage lights. 

 

“That’s Tao.” Sehun breathes into Jongin’s ear. Jongin’s eyes rake the strippers’ bodies appreciatively before almost panting, “I think I need another drink.” 

Sehun snaps his fingers, and soon enough there’s a second glass of neon liquid in his hand. The liquor is a seductive red this time, but Jongin doesn’t question it as he and Sehun down the cocktail in only a few gulps.

 

The dancers have moved into the crowd, and soon enough, one of the girls sashayes her way over to their booth. Her hair tumbles past her pretty frame in silky black curls, and they tickle Sehun’s neck when she sits in his lap, batting her lashes. “Pretty boy won’t mind, will he?” she smiles at Jongin as she begins to massage Sehun’s shoulders, arms, legs, everything. Jongin shakes his head and Sehun smirks at him to the side when she starts whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Jongin is so immersed in the sight that he doesn’t notice the famous male stripper sliding between his thighs. 

 

“My, my, Sehun sure knows how to reel them in.” Tao’s voice is low and runs through Jongin’s skin, threads itself under his tongue and pulls him to look at his smouldering gaze. The dancer is so much more intimidating, breathlessly real up close, beads of golden sweat glistening down lean muscle. Jongin almost dares feel shy before remembering himself and relaxing into his seat, eyeing the stripper through strands of hair. 

 

“I guess he does. You must be Tao.” 

 

Tao flashes a smile and runs a hand through Jongin’s hair, down his neck and past his chest. “That’s the name. Why don’t you relax, pretty boy.”

 

Jongin shivers and locks his hands behind his head as he leans back, displaying chest and promising muscle beneath the stretched shirt. He moves his hips a little and Tao seems pleased. The dancer slides his palms up his own abs, tongue swiping his bottom lip when he tugs at the waistband of his tight boxers with an innocent expression that is betrayed by the smoky hold. Jongin’s eyes follows his every move, hands never betraying him as he stays composed yet obviously appreciative. 

 

There’s a familiar rush of blood, dangerous and exciting when Tao’s hips grind smooth and sexy against Jongin’s tight jeans, hands around his neck, smirk against his skin. Vibrations thrum in Jongin’s throat as a delicious melody for the dancer’s skillful touch. Tao’s voice is thick with husk and he smells like cologne thinly veiled with sweat, but it’s a drop on heaven on Jongin’s skin. 

 

“Why don’t you come dance with us for a song - give your man a little show.” 

He trails a finger on Jongin’s neck until the latter finds himself grinning and nodding. They leave the booth without warning to Sehun who narrows his eyes as they leave, the dancer in his lap gently pulling his hands back to her hips. The crowd parts for Tao like the red sea. Confidence rolls off his slick body in luxurious waves and has every trembling grass in the field bowing beneath his smirk.

 

Jongin throws his shoulders back and follows his lead. Years of passion for the Arts meant that Jongin invested time, blood, sweat and tears into every Art he could add his name to. Dance and Fashion were the only two that made him feel something more than curiosity, more than admiration. Whether it was with a certain song or a certain design idea - he felt passion. And he knew how to execute it flawlessly. Imitation or creation - both mixed and imbued his senses with the music and flared a fire in his eyes.

 

So when Tao finally pulls him up on the stage, he feels that same spark burning in his veins. It thrums in his fingertips and buzzes in his chest when the music starts and Tao pulls him close. He doesn’t think, doesn’t breathe. Only dances. Rolls his hips in response to Tao, repeating and adding moves here and there, playing a dangerous game with seductive gazes and playful smirks. Jongin knows how to twist his expressions to please a customer, and the clients of the club are no different. 

 

He adds spice and flair to the show, guiding Tao’s hands from behind to slide over his chest and lift his shirt halfway up. The public whistles when he rolls his hips and plays with the exposure that has every spectator drooling. Tao’s laugh tickles the back of his neck. “Last verse.” He breathes in his ear, and Jongin knows that he’s got thirty seconds to make sure that Sehun and the rest of the club has this performance burned into the back of their mind like the best shot of the night. 

 

He finds Sehun’s gaze in the crowd. He’s alone now, an arm stretched out on the bench as he brings another cocktail to his lips, gaze locked on Jongin’s every move. Jongin throws him a wink and turns to Tao. They don’t say anything - Tao’s smirk is more than enough to understand Jongin’s final objective. 

  
  


Jongin has no idea exactly what happens next, but he knows that he’s suddenly shirtless and Tao uses his shirt to pull them closer, grinding filthy and shameless to the music, hot lips skimming dangerously close at times as the music reaches its climax - and they finish with a final pose of Tao’s back to the audience, chest flush against Jongin who smirks at the audience over the stripper’s shoulder, hand resting on his belt when the lights dim and the crowd goes wild. 

 

He and Tao break apart breathless and laughing. “Damn, you’re good.” Tao praises before handing him back his shirt once they’re in the small arranged storage room that is ‘backstage’, “Oh, and I hope you didn’t mind that. Kind of a spur of the moment thing, but worked out well enough right? Personally, I consider it a fucking sin to cover up a body like that with shirts.” 

 

Jongin feels heat rise to his cheeks - different than from physical exertion. He’s blushing before he knows it, and he pulls the shirt over his head. There’s always a small part of him that’s painfully modest, despite confidence and quick wit being one of his main atoms. “Thanks, that was really fun. And don’t worry about the shirt, it was getting pretty hot anyways.” 

 

“I know, this job is a killer sometimes. But the pay definitely is worth the shit. You could even look at getting half the tips for tonight - you deserve it.”

 

Jongin laughs and waves him off. “The experience was more than enough. I don’t need money.”

 

“Trust me, I noticed the Gucci tag on that shirt as well as the fact that you’re with Sehun. But I can’t let you leave without a little thanks…”

 

“I’ll let you buy Sehun and I a round of drinks.” 

 

“Anything for the star of the night.” 

 

Jongin rolls his eyes, “Please, you’re the actual king of this club, and I’m pretty sure you already know that. I was just having fun. Also, this means getting a rise out of Sehun, which just doubles everything.”

 

“He’s a pretty hard target to break, I’ve always thought. But that guy has more tricks and secrets up his expensive sleeve than anyone I know - including that tattoo of his-”

 

“Sehun has a tattoo?”

 

“Left bicep, curls up around his muscles and flicks at his shoulder. It might even curve around his back - I’m not really sure. But it’s hot as hell. It’s easily covered under suits or long sleeves in winter. I’ve only seen it once in summer, when he came in a sleeveless top. Could never forget it.”

 

Jongin bites his lip, “Well well, I guess I’ll have to see that for myself now.”

 

Tao winks and pats his ass. “Go get him, tiger.”

 

Jongin scoffs but allows himself to stumble back into the club’s heat. Multiple people congratulate and whistle as he walks past, and he flinches when someone tries to grab his backside. He’s ready to throw a punch when Sehun’s calm venom intervenes. 

 

“Keep your filthy hands off him. He’s not a stripper, nor is he up for grabs.” 

 

The person in question simply snorts before pathetically ignoring them. Sehun doesn’t say anything else before pulling Jongin back to the booth and sitting down. 

 

“Enjoy the show?” Jongin opts for straddling his lap and playing with his hair (he can blame the cocktails for it all, right?). Sehun looks up at him with something in his eyes that flashes and darkens beneath the strobe of neon lights. 

 

Arousal and admiration coats his throat in thick husk when he breathes, “You’re amazing, Jongin.” Sehun slides a hand to just linger at the limit between the hem of Jongin’s shirt and his belt. He kisses his collarbones. “Stunning… I think I’d like to see you dancing more often…”

 

Jongin bites his lip and pulls Sehun up for a hard kiss. Sehun breathes a laugh, leans back and makes Jongin  _ work for it.  _

 

“After all I’ve done, can’t you indulge me for once?” Jongin whines. Sehun pulls him closer by the waist, thumbs hooked at the back of Jongin’s jeans. Sehun calls him spoilt, but a hushed “Kiss me” from Jongin’s lips is all it takes for Sehun to delve in, to indulge, to give Jongin every inch of him that thunders for more. They’re flush against each other, Jongin’s hands drowning him into Jongin’s lips, Sehun’s hair, Jongin’s skin, Sehun’s tongue. 

 

Everything about them is slow, rich, luxurious, tastes of money and cologne and liquor dripping on their lips and tantalizing their skin. Sehun’s hands skim Jongin’s thighs, the curve of his back, the delicious feel of toned muscles tame beneath his palms. Jongin never lets them breathe - air is too common, would charr and taint their glass-covered souls. It’s only the two of them lost, lost, lost in the diamonds in their eyes, the gold on their skin, the rubies on their lips. 

The vibrations in Sehun’s throat thrum and skim his bones like fine music, fingers lace his hair in eloquent designs. 

 

Tao sneaks up behind Jongin and splays his fingers across his shoulders, throwing a sweet smile to Sehun’s dark gaze. “I promised Jongin here to treat you two to a round of drinks. I’ll see you at the bar?” Tao brushes his lips against the shell of Jongin’s ear and Sehun pulls him closer. Jongin chuckles, “We’ll be there.” Tao grins and melts back into the haze towards the bar. 

 

“I know Tao; he won’t try anything with you. But I’ll be damned if I don’t like seeing his hands on you.” Sehun murmurs soft and heavy against his neck, hands kneading tender flesh. Jongin’s breath hitches, somehow caught between lust and electricity. “My, my… I think I’d love to see more jealous Sehun over a round of neon cocktails.” 

 

“I’m always happy to oblige.”

 

A minute later, they’re at the bar laughing with Tao while Kris pours them a line of drinks with an amused smile twitching at his lips. The cocktails tremble into a multi-colored neon mirage in Jongin’s blurry vision, but the taste on his tongue is ever as sharp and intoxicating, running down his throat and up his spine as an imitation of the way Sehun’s eyes follow the same path. Soon, one round of drinks turn into two, three, and Jongin quickly loses count of the drinks that become less and less discernable to his intoxicated eye, more and more tingling than vibrating down his bones. 

 

Tao seems to never want to leave the bar, stays with his eyes roaming Kris’s body with a lazy smile on his lips. It’s only now when Jongin realises that Tao is actually dressed; tight leather pants and a ripped shirt leaving his chest teasingly exposed, a choker around his slender neck. It suits him well. Jongin runs his finger over the glass’ rim and briefly muses signing Tao as a model for his company. The sales would skyrocket. 

 

“What’re you thinking about?” Sehun’s breath smells of fruit and vodka on his cheek, but Jongin leans into his arms and closes his eyes. 

 

“Thinking about how I’m too drunk to think right now.”

 

“Lightweight. Isn’t this better than that expensive champagne that Junmyeon showers you in?” Sehun starts to nuzzle a trail of pecks on Jongin’s exposed shoulder.

 

“Shut up, you know you’re just as spoilt and drunk as I am right now.”

 

“Maybe. But at least I’m here with you.”

 

“Thank you.” Jongin whispers into Sehun’s palm as he kisses the soft ridges, the hard knuckles that are sweet with promise beneath his lips. He needed a cocoon from the press, the endless sea of papers and preparations, the fabricated life whose strings would eventually tug at him, no matter how many times he cut them off and called himself a king. And Sehun had been there to provide, to indulge, to shower him with more butterflies and sparkles than Junmyeon’s expensive champagne ever could.

 

“Dance with me.” Sehun hushes into his ear, sends a wave of shudders through his body. He leans forwards to lightly brush Tao’s knee, silently tells him that they were going to the dance floor. Tao wishes him luck by skimming a thumb over Sehun’s arm and winking. 

 

Jongin’s drunken vision hollows out the entire soul of the music, moulds it into something vaguely distant yet eerily close, loud guitar whispering in his ear and vibrating down his bones as he dances with Sehun. Their footing is loose and stumbling, but to Jongin it’s the best dance he’s ever had, simply because Sehun’s hands are everywhere they can touch, erasing any trace of Tao’s path, marking Jongin as his with every swipe of his fingertips. 

 

Heat crawls up his spine, blood probably turned into a fluorescent rainbow with all the drinks that graced his tongue, but he lets it all consume him and devour him as Sehun pulls him close and kisses him slowly. He lets himself feel every inch of Sehun, the way the material of his clothes is soft and supple beneath his fingertips - Prada tight on his legs and Chanel fit on his chest - Oh Sehun has the fashion designer simply enamoured by his every touch, every glance, every word.

 

When the music eventually dulls into a vulgar background noise and Jongin can’t feel his lips anymore, Sehun finally pulls them back to the bar to say goodbye. Tao hasn’t moved from his perch on the bar, his hand lightly pressed onto Kris’s forearm while he stirs another drink for a customer. They slur goodbyes, and Jongin even pecks Tao’s cheek as a thank you for the stage and drinks. Sehun nods to Kris and idly texts a message to his chauffeur with one too many emoticons. 

 

Stumbling outside, cold air nips at Jongin’s exposed skin and he hisses. A leather jacket is immediately hung over his shoulders and he feels long arms slide around his waist in a warm back-hug. “You’re underdressed.”

 

“The things I do for fashion.” Jongin sighs and runs a hand through his hair. The cold air then seems to simply move around them as though suddenly afraid to disturb their peace. The navy blue Porsche is beautifully sleek and silent as it pulls up and they almost stumble inside, leather seats and cologne wrapping them in luxury and money again when Sehun closes the door and they speed off.

 

In the backseat, Jongin falls asleep on Sehun’s shoulder, but not before Sehun can ruffle his hair and whisper, “You big dork, you’re sleeping at mine tonight whether you like it or not”. Exhaust leads Jongin to simply nod and slip his arms around Sehun’s waist. 

 

Sehun stares with glazed eyes at the dazzling night-lights of Seoul that slowly start to streak past the tinted windows, Jongin’s steady breathing on his shoulder, palms soft on his hip. 

 

Hauling two drunk CEOs down the huge mansion is far from easy and the chauffeur mumbles curses under his breath when the two fall into a heap of giggles halfway up the staircase. Once they finally collapse into Sehun’s master bedroom, Jongin has the nerve to whine about his tight jeans. 

 

“Screw Versace, I can’t breathe.”

 

After fumbling through what seems miles of a walk-in closet, Sehun stumbles back out to toss the latter a pair of sweatpants. Jongin frowns. “I can’t feel my fingers. Help me out Sehuuuuunnn.” 

 

“You’re a real bitch you know that.” Sehun huffs before unbuckling Jongin’s belt and peeling off the dark ripped jeans. Inches of tanned muscle reveal to be firm and appetizing under Sehun’s bleary eye. Jongin is in nothing but his boxers when Sehun tosses the jeans aside. Sehun raises a brow, “What happened to your shirt?” 

 

“I always sleep shirtless.”

 

“Fair enough.” Sehun shrugs and starts to slip on the black sweatpants. Once or twice, he doesn’t miss the chance to pinch at Jongin’s sculpted thigh. When Sehun finishes with a playful slap on Jongin’s hip, Jongin sighs and pulls Sehun to lie on top of him. He locks his legs around Sehun’s waist and moves his hips a trifle too close. 

 

“Shut up Jongin, I have to change too.”

 

Jongin frowns. Sehun clicks his tongue and pushes himself off to change. He starts with the pants, calvin klein boxers moulding his curves like a bronze cast. Grey sweatpants hang low on his hips. Moonlight shadows rows of slender muscles and supple bones as he slowly pulls the sweater over his head. He’s beautifully pale, and under the silver light, Jongin’s intoxicated eye can visualise a golden crown weave royal metal into his white locks. 

 

When he turns, Jongin catches a glimpse of a dark tribal design on his right arm. Curled around his bicep, flecked around his shoulder. Sehun throws him a lazy smile as he rolls into Jongin’s side. 

 

Apparently, he sleeps shirtless too. Jongin traces the tattoo with wide-eyed wonder. He follows the trail with a simmering gaze, eyes and lips. Once Jongin is at the shoulder, he pushes him to turn. Sehun’s back is impossibly wide and muscled, narrowing down to a slim waist that can only belong to that of a model. 

 

The tattoo continues onto his shoulder blade, the tought tribal motifs swirling into something much more refined and detailed, exquisite ink delirious against the snow skin. 

 

But there seems to be a glitch where the ink starts to refine itself; Jongin’s finger passes over an odd bump in the skin. It’s ragged, like a piece of armor embedded into the muscle; a warrior’s scar. Jongin frowns and kisses it, holding Sehun’s hand when he feels the latter twitch underneath the particular strange spot. Jongin will let answers reveal themselves in their own time. For now, it’s just sweet ink, soft moonlight.

 

The design ends with the curl of a blooming crown just beneath the nape of his neck. Jongin kisses the ink. 

 

“Damn, who would have thought that Tao was right.”

 

Sehun laughs underneath him. Feather-like touch floating down the curves of his back. “Sexy Sehun.” 

 

Sehun hums and flips them over so that he’s straddling Jongin. “Am I?” He breathes into Jongin’s neck. Jongin doesn’t respond. Only pulls him down for a heated kiss. Maybe a moan here and there when Sehun is lucky enough to grind against him. They break apart, breathless smiles on their lips. 

 

“We should sleep.” 

 

“We really should.”

 

“Not yet.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Sehun’s touch is delicate, sinking into Jongin’s skin like summer sun as he traces Jongin’s lines, tan muscle sweet under his lips. He noses along the waistband of his sweatpants.

 

“Wouldn’t you look pretty with a hickey.”

 

“That rhymed.” 

 

They laugh. Jongin’s fingers thread softly through his hair like water. 

 

“But I’m tired. Just come hug me to sleep.”

 

Sehun quietly obliges. Jongin feels small and warm in his arms. His lips fit perfectly into the crook of Sehun’s neck. Their steady breathing evens into the night, slips through their intertwined fingers and tiptoes into the cricket’s sleeping melody.

 

~

 

Jongin wakes up the next morning with a blinding headache. There’s an empty space in the king-sized bed, one with ruffled sheets and pulled back covers. 

 

“Morning, princess.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

His throat is raw with a husk that lingers courtesy to an undefinable amount of cocktails from the night before. Sehun laughs and hands him a glass of water and a small pill. Jongin eyes the platter of warm food that he places on the table before swallowing the aspirin dry. 

 

“I didn’t know you cooked.”

 

“All I can say is that waffle machines are life-savers and fruit salads are easy to make. Just be glad you got the unburnt batch.”

 

Jongin grins and doesn’t question the rest. Sehun had put on a loose shirt, sliding over his collarbones. They eat in silence for the most part. Sometimes, Sehun’s fingers will skim his shoulder, or will absent-mindedly twist the waistband of Jongin’s sweatpants. Jongin leans into the touch, syrup melting on his tongue. 

 

“So, what did you think of my end of the earth, potential mugging place’ ?”

 

“I guess it turned out alright.” Jongin nips at a strawberry.

 

“You’re such a princess.”

 

“So are you though, don’t even try to deny it.” 

 

“I’m perfectly open to new experiences though.”

 

“And I’m not?”

 

“Sure you are. But you’re still a softie.”

 

Jongin snorts. “Whatever you say, Mr. Oh.” He teases, tossing his legs across Sehun’s lap, earning an eye-roll, but a smile nonetheless.

 

They finish eating, and Sehun surprises Jongin by cleaning up the tray and taking it to the kitchen himself. It’s like the detail on the hem of a dress - simple, small, yet can determine the entire quality of the material. Jongin always loved details. 

 

He muses over this with closed eyes, warm in the sheets. He hears Sehun’s soft footfall as he returns. He feels the soft dip of the mattress as Sehun crawls over to bury him in his arms.

 

“It’s almost 11am.”

 

“Too early” Jongin’s fingers play with Sehun’s shirt. Sehun breathes a laugh into the crook of his neck. 

 

“You can stay if you like. Get some more sleep. I’m going to take a shower though, promise I won’t be long.”

 

Jongin nods and curls himself into the blanket. Sehun smiles against his neck and places a quick kiss before his weight is gone and his footsteps pad over to a door to the left. 

 

Jongin still hasn’t quite forgotten the thrill that rippled through his body when Sehun’s hands trailed down his bare thighs last night, the delicious ink ornating Sehun’s wide back - so tame underneath his fingertips. The memory is too faded to elicit the vivid sensation again, and Jongin finds himself craving the ghost of fleeting adrenaline. 

 

He hears the shower turn on, and there’s a sudden flood of images that send a rush of blood pulsing through his body as he imagines all too well Sehun’s lean figure, droplets of water sliding down his chest, scented soap gleaming on his skin… Jongin bites his lip. Sehun is always the one to surprise. Jongin simply figures that it’s his turn now.

 

He undresses down to nothing, leaving the clothes discarded on a various pile before quietly turning the door handle which leads to the bathroom. He holds his breath as steam clouds his vision. The door closes behind him, and he can just make out a tall silhouette in the far corner of the pearl bathroom, cold tiles on his feet as he tiptoes over, hot mist already clinging to his skin. The shower seems far too big for one person, and the glass door only serves as a tease for Jongin’s anticipation, Sehun’s unsuspecting silhouette washing his hair. 

 

Jongin pushes open the door. Sehun jumps and faces him, utter surprise on his expression. Jongin closes the door as he steps inside, the hot water drizzling his skin with hot pinpricks of lust. Sehun doesn’t say anything still, his breathing short. Jongin keeps his eyes trained on the latter’s. His hair is already falling in front of his eyes with innocent, wet locks. 

 

“You took too long. I was getting cold.” He steps forwards, wrapping an arm around Sehun’s waist. He’s so rarely the one to do so, and Sehun’s waist is so beautifully slender, gentle hip bones beneath his fingertips. Sehun’s breath hitches, and Jongin absolutely revels in how innocent he seems. The whole picture only last for perhaps a minute before Sehun finally regains his posture, licking his lips as a drop of water catches his tongue. 

 

“I was hoping you’d come for a chat.”

 

Jongin snorts, pulls them closer until there’s no space for water to wash inbetween, the soap on Sehun’s skin slick against Jongin’s chest. Sehun even gasps as their mandhood press against one another. Jongin is curious to see how far he can play with Sehun - that sharp man with brilliant wit, hard features and exquisite tongue - see how far he can turn the tables this time. 

 

Jongin leans in, licking the water that slides down Sehun’s collarbones. His voice drapes Sehun in thick husk when he whispers; “Talking was the last thing on my mind, believe me.” He rocks his hips and Sehun’s full-body shudder is enough to punch arousal straight to his gut. 

 

“Then kiss me.” 

 

Jongin does just that; presses his lips against Sehun’s, open mouthed, hot, wet, licking water and fruit around Sehun’s tongue, steam caressing his neck. He has Sehun pushed up against the wall now, arching against the cold tiles as he tugs Jongin’s wet hair, breathing heavy with steam when Jongin leaves loving bruises on his chest, nails desperately sliding down his back when Sehun shudders into his neck.

 

Jongin groans, palms more and more adventurous, trailing down to the wonderful curve of Sehun’s lower back, slender thighs, and oops - a certain area that has Sehun keening his name, rutting against his hand. It rips electricity through Jongin’s member, and he breaks apart to breathe against Sehun’s wanton lips. 

 

“Oh Sehun, famous Daredevil, so quick to fall apart for me?” 

 

Sehun runs a tongue across his teeth. His breath is as hot as the steam that rolls across Jongin’s shoulders, sliding tongue as the drops on his skin. “At this point, I’m pretty sure I’ve already fallen for every inch of you.”

 

Jongin smiles at that, pulling him in for a deep kiss. Electricity pulls them closer, static crackling inside Jongin’s veins when he feels large hands guide him down dripping muscle, tribal ink, aching arousal…

 

“Is this okay?” he hears Sehun softly ask somewhere between clouds of white.

 

He’s not even aware of his own soft pleas, whines spinning around his head when Sehun slowly starts pulling his cock, water sliding around the length, hotter with every languid squeeze and daring eye. Jongin presses back into the tiles as he scrambles for some anchor to reality. It comes in the form of Sehun’s half-hard cock pressing against his thigh. Jongin shudders, and starts imitating Sehun’s actions. 

 

It’s back and forth; the chain reaction of a forest fire - crackling musky scent on Jongin’s tongue, thick vapor imbuing his senses, eyes closed to revel in the burning touch, leaves curling in delicious pleasure to the flames as Sehun’s thumb digs into his slit. Sehun shudders in response when Jongin does the same, the hissing crack of trees breaking to his touch, pressing harder, harder against him, white moans lost in the steam, droplets of water quivering on his lips and passing hot under Jongin’s tongue as he licks open moans into Sehun’s mouth.

Rough hands pull at Jongin’s jaw and squeeze his cock, harsh bucking against his thigh, teeth on his neck, nails down his nipples. Jongin’s reactions force harder pressure on Sehun’s cock when he pulls, presses, kisses him, wrist twitching with Sehun’s touch and eliciting pleasure in return. 

 

They’re both the fire, the forest, the smoke, the leaves - rough, submissive, starved, spoilt - it’s all lost and mixed and fucking amazing in the steam as their need only grows, swallowing senses, devouring touch. Jongin’s breathing is labored with water, steam everywhere, his head is ringing with frantic, hungry birds, their feathers stripped bare as he’s completely exposed and desperate for more - 

 

Jongin keens high and fucking loud when Sehun fists both their cocks together and everything is tight, hot, wet, fast and fucked as they grind against each other, into their hands, gasping into their mouths. Sehun finally catches his eye, smirks - and Jongin knows he’s done before it even happens. The thumb pressing against his slit, squeezing the base, and Jongin has been burned by the white-tipped flame of pleasure consuming his brain and gut, ripping open his chest as he gasps, and he has just enough time to pull the same reaction from Sehun so they come together beneath the drizzling shower. 

 

The translucent cum is washed but they remain holding each other close in shivering rest as they slowly come down from the clouds. 

 

“Well that was fun.” Jongin laughs into Sehun’s shoulder. 

 

“That’s one way to put it.” Sehun grins. He then pulls away frowning in mock annoyance. “Come on, you didn’t even give me enough time to wash properly.” Sehun pulls away to pour some soap onto his hand, looking up at Jongin with nothing other than a childish smirk.

 

Jongin figures it’s the post-sex effect that has the two of them giggling and tickling each other as they flick foamy soap and rub soft bubbles into their skin in a scented gelled mess, but when Sehun laughs with that beautiful eye-smile, hair clinging to his forehead, he resembles an innocent teenager laughing under the spring rain - so much so that Jongin stops, hands on his slim hips, their breathless laughter mingling with the slowly rising steam, and stares at the drops of water that paint that precious smile, rose dipped lips. 

 

Sehun notices the admirative gaze, and leans his forehead against Jongin’s, eyes closed. Their dripping hair sticks to their foreheads, but nothing else matters when the shower washes away all their cares in the world, water engulfing them in a world only for them, their steady heartbeats and warm lips, far from their reality of greedy businessmen and cold suits. 

 

Sehun slips his arms around his waist and pulls him closer to nuzzle his neck. Jongin finds himself melting into the steam, curling into Sehun’s touch as his hands find their way to softly press on the curves of his back, the lines of his hips as though they were the missing pieces to a puzzle. Home.

 

Jongin opens his eyes, heartbeat fleeting at the revelation. It’s the strangest thing to believe that he’d never felt this secure with anyone. Sehun keeps him on his toes with tease and surprise and rivalry, but he also indulges, shows him a side of himself that never graces the cameras. 

  
  
  


His heartbeat follows his thoughts, one after another, reality imbuing itself with this precious moment until it all evaporates in the steam, washes the soap on his shoulders until it all clears into the brilliantly familiar, warm smile of Oh Sehun. 

 

The thought is enough to kindle his heart in blue tipped flames, but there’s a reality that is also enough to spit at it when he feels cold tiles against his back. Sehun is still kissing him, slow, languid, cotton candy to his tongue, but there’s a painfully bitter taste clawing at the back of Jongin’s throat when he thinks of monotonous words, underlying accusations and a flashing recorder. 

 

He eases a small distance between them, just enough to properly see the latter through curls of vapor and drizzling water. “Sehun… what am I to you?” 

 

There’s then a crease of confusion in the high forehead. He tilts his head, tongue running along his teeth as though cleaning them out for the right words. “You’re my rival that I’ve fallen for. You’re a dancer, an artist, a sexy businessman that I’ve always admired from the beginning. You make me feel safe with who I am.”

 

Jongin’s thumbs are tracing circles on his hips, admiration with a shade of blush adorning his cheeks at the honest words.

 

“And me, Jongin? What am I to you?” Sehun whispers.

 

Sehun’s hands rest on his waist, soft skin and long lashes painting such a perfect picture that Jongin doesn’t have to think twice about the answer already engraved on his heart. 

 

“Home.” 

 

He pulls Sehun closer in a comforting hug, to breathe into his neck. “You’re my rival that I can’t spend a day without thinking about. You’re a world of surprises and danger and luxury wrapped up in pretty pale skin and dark tattoos. You’re all that and so much more, but mostly, when we’re together like this, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” 

 

He smiles against Sehun’s skin, the inked motifs and the snow neck, and when Sehun’s hold tightens, pulls him closer, he thinks that indeed, he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be. 

 

Sehun is silent, his head buried in the crook of Jongin’s neck. Jongin thinks he feels something trembling against his skin, the arms tight around him as though terrified of letting go. He wonders if that tremendous heartbeat raging against his chest is his own or Sehun’s. He slides a hand into wet locks, massaging his hair. 

 

“I don’t want to lose you…” Sehun’s words are more the delicate vibrations on his neck than speech, barely reaching Jongin’s ears through the caged waterfall and heavy steam. 

 

Jongin wants to reassure him, say that nothing will make them lose sight of one another - but he knows better than to wave off reality. He sighs. “Me neither.”

 

Maybe the answer hurts Sehun, because he pulls away and Jongin’s breath is suddenly choked with steam or emotion - he can’t really tell - when he sees the veil of melancholy glossing Sehun’s dark eyes, vulnerable and damp - mist or tears - he can’t really tell.

 

“Kyungsoo… he got to you too?” Sehun’s voice is so, so small, hands suddenly innocent and scared on Jongin’s back. 

 

Jongin nods. “He’s smarter than the rest. He calculated my every word... He casually said something about exposing me, how it could ruin my company if the public knew…” His voice shakes as he recalls the interview. Kyungsoo’s deep voice might have snaked its way deeper into his fears than Jongin remembered. Sehun hushes him, peppers his cheeks with kisses. 

 

“I know… Come on, it’ll be easier to talk outside; it’s getting hard to breathe in here.” Sehun turns off the shower, cold air snapping at their heels. He gently opens the door heavy with condensed tears, and kisses Jongin’s shivering teeth warm as he dries him. 

 

The atmosphere is damp, clings to Jongin’s skin like mournful dew, the chill of a morning sunrise shivering down his arms as they both dress.

 

Jongin settles before him on the bed, and he suddenly thinks it’s quite ridiculous, the way he can almost imagine the suit on Sehun’s chest, the professional oak table between them with a decisive contract and pen waiting on the sleek surface -  when actually, it’s just him and Sehun with the carpet on their toes and loose clothes on their skin, tongues tight with the overturned dirt of a threatening interview. 

 

“He pretty much told me the same thing… Maybe threatened me more like a parent since my company is still rising and the whole speech again.” Sehun waves his hand like a prince warding off a pesky fly. “I dismissed him quickly enough after that - you know I can’t stand people who underestimate me.” 

 

Jongin can’t decide whether to awe at or to scold the latter. His mouth eventually twists into something along the lines of an amused laugh - for he knows very well now how Sehun is - and a worried frown.

 

“I don’t call you Daredevil for nothing, I know that, but what they’re all saying is still true…” Jongin sighs. “It took me years of hard work and dedication to create Juun J. and to build a high standard image for the articles that would get me to the top. I had to sacrifice way more than you’d think. You can’t come out into the fashion industry with a huge explosion - everything is too delicate and people - investors - will be afraid and you’ll lose everything.” Jongin looks into Sehun’s eyes, carefully threading out his words when he sees the beginnings of a frown line the corners of his lips. “The gay community is so shady in Korea, anything related will be destroyed, blocked out from any prestige. If Kyungsoo decides to carry out his threat, your company is more screwed than mine.” 

 

“Why would that be? I can easily find a way to make them crawl back to me anyways. Marketing solutions aren’t useless, you know. Let them talk. Fuck it.” 

There’s an unusually bitter bite to Sehun’s words and it teeters Jongin’s speech. 

 

“You can’t always refer to your business school textbooks for classic case studies to solve your problems. You have to know how to avoid those situations in the first place. I know you value your pride more than anything else, and I know how you love a little danger here and there to spice things up, but you have to listen to me right now. I’m talking to you as a business advisor as well as your…” 

 

Jongin trails off, not knowing which word to associate himself to describe someone who cares too much about Sehun’s doings to watch his company fall. Lover? Partner? He needs a label to continue his lecture, but Sehun is already looking up at him with the beginnings of an amused smile cracking his features. Jongin bites his lip. 

 

There is just one word, impatient, dancing on the tip of his tongue and begging to roll past his teeth and draw promising ink on Sehun’s collarbones, interlacing with the fresh bruises slipping beneath his shirt, a claim to be his. 

 

Sehun is leaning forwards now, his voice a teasing whisper.

 

“As well as my boyfriend?” 

 

Jongin’s eyes widen, and it’s just the briefest breath of vulnerability that slips between his lips, that blessed word unchaining his anxious heart to curl around Sehun’s neck in a sweet haven.

 

“Boyfriend…” He tastes it, silently, dearly, a drop of honey on his taste-buds, a coat of gold around his ribcage when Sehun’s fingers flutter over his shirt. 

 

“I’m talking to you as a business advisor as well as your… boyfriend… who cares too much about you to see your company go down.” He silently curses himself when he realises his voice has gone cotton-soft after the brief interval. 

 

“I’ve been down the exact same road as you, Sehun. I’m the only one who can fully show you our road to the top, and it’s guaranteed to be a bitch to your pride -”

 

“I doubt we’ve been down the same roads…” Sehun murmurs, eyes downcast. Jongin frowns. 

 

“Well I guess we’re not exactly the same of course, but in the global color of things, we’re both headed in the same direction and we can’t be that different…”

 

“I was bullied for crying over flowers when I was in primary. High school was no better; people laughed at me for blushing over a boy’s touch. Some even went as far as cornering me after school, kicking me against the brick walls until I bled, sneering the worst names if I dared cry.” Jongin’s eyes widen in shock at the sudden change, but Sehun doesn’t soften his discourse. Disgust drips into heavy puddles off of every word that is spat from his tongue as the tirade gets longer. 

 

“One always got a real kick out of tormenting me. The sick bastard was a pyromaniac too; brought out his lighter once and dragged it across my shoulder as his friends held me down. After that day I thought I’d never be able to show my face again. I wanted to move, rip everything off and scream into nowhere. In the end, I settled for silence and a tattoo to cover it up; some material excuse to call myself tough, a winner over my fears.” 

  
  


A dry laugh pries past his lips, seizing Jongin’s throat with burning fingers and dry sand. The tattoo slips into sight beneath the collar of his shirt - the dark ink now seeming more like a painting of dried blood, a black lining to cage his scars restless beneath the skin. The past image of Jongin’s fingers running along a particularly ragged line on the skin flashes into his mind and chokes his throat. His heart aches, tears a little more when Sehun continues speaking, his hand tightening around Jongin’s.

 

“As soon as I was eighteen I flew right out of there. Went straight to business school, drowned myself in studies and forced myself into relationships… I don’t know; to prove my self worth I suppose. College was such a mess for the first couple of years. People were talking behind my back, rumor after rumor echoing about how much of a slut I was.” He spat a laugh. 

 

“Things hadn’t changed really. So I got sick of them all. I decided to be better than them, give them a real reason to talk about me; jealousy for my success over their previous disgust for my reckless personal life. I broke off everything I had, decided to focus on case studies and strategics. I hardly stepped foot outside of the library, ignoring people’s sneers about how I’d drastically changed. What does it matter anyways, when in a couple of years, I could count exactly twenty people trying to contact me, saying how ‘we were really good friends in high-school’ or ‘of course you remember me, I helped you that one time at the party!’. Yeah, of course she helped me take a video of my stupid body shots to laugh over it on facebook the next day.  People instanty grow smiling masks for money. And they dare scoff at me and say how I changed.”  Sehun sneers and, before Jongin can react, he reaches over to the bedside drawer to snatch a pack of cigarettes and an inked lighter, a flame quickly chanting beneath the trembling tip of a cigarette already placed between his teeth, his hand shaking violently as he lights it.He hollows his cheeks, deep shadows curving into his cheekbones before he turns his head, seething out a veil of livid smoke. 

 

Jongin had never really minded smoking, but, for the first time, the smell of nicotine seems to claw his throat and burn his tongue when Sehun leers around the cigarette.

 

“Anyways, I made it. Twice as better than the rest of them. Alone, perhaps, but that’s how I got started. Turns out, people loved my stubbornness, maybe my pretty face too. I got enough business offers with my CV, and soon enough, was hired for a small company to be their business manager. I was too young, but I couldn’t care less; I was already better than the others. The smartest of them already started trying to make amends within my first couple of achievements, but I laughed at them all. My plan worked. All those goddamn years… when they thought they could spit in my face and tear me down with harsh rumors and stupid lies… 

“I couldn’t care less now. Let them talk. What will it change for me anyways, I’m the only reason they have to gossip. Even when they think they’re being stealthy about it all, they have nothing if I don’t create a little drama, if I don’t feed their stupid blogs with my daily life.” There’s a dye of red seeping into the corner of his eyes when he faces Jongin. “They’re finally in the palm of my hand and there’s no fucking way they’re going to suddenly flip the tables and have the satisfaction of seeing me on my knees for their worthless approval after so long. Because they’re never going to be stronger than me, no matter how many fucking times they try. Never.”  

 

Sehun crushes the cigarette between his teeth, ash collapsing to the floor. There’s something glistening at the corner of his eye, the ghost of an angry tear tearing at his prison of lashes. 

 

“So no, I doubt we have the same flowered background, Jongin.”

 

The spite that saturates the syllables itch at Jongin’s skin, but he quickly finds that he can’t even find it inside himself to kindle a single flame of hate towards the latter.

 

“Refusing to address rumors isn’t weak; it’s showing that you’re finally over them.” He whispers. “You don’t need to prove you’re worth to anyone, Sehun. You’ve come this far already, it’s time you leave all of them behind now and focus on what you want to do, on what makes you feel alive.”

 

Jongin’s hands are unbearably cold without Sehun’s touch. Maybe Sehun will be even colder now, nothing but a cage of bones and nicotine and scars and young pride and blue smoke, but somehow, Jongin can’t really believe that he could ever be shocked by Sehun’s words. 

 

Somehow, it only makes him want to hold him even closer where others had kicked him, soothe him when others had laughed at him; because Jongin can see the dying cigarette trembling in his long fingers, mauve veins running down his wrists like liquid paint on a blank canvas, royal blood swirling with feather smoke and heavy tears, can see the way Sehun closes his eyes as though sheer will could cage all the fire in his lungs and all the pain in his heart.

 

Sehun’s mouth twists, anger and pain pulling at his lips like fish hooks. and Jongin wants nothing more than to wash it all away beneath a warm shower until pearls of rain coats his lashes and porcelain innocence smiles back at him through wisps of mesmerizing steam. 

 

“I just want to be with you… without having to care… I shouldn’t have to care after all this time…” Sehun’s voice shatters in his throat. He crushes the half-decomposed cigarette in his hand, lets it fall into a grave of ashes on the carpet. A teardrop finally slides down his cheek. Jongin’s hand is on his knee before he can blink.

 

“I know it was hard to get up to here, and I promise, I promise you won’t have to care soon. But I need you to just wait for one last stretch of the way, one last time until you can burn them all until they’re nothing but ashes. I’ll be right here this time.” Jongin pleads.

 

Sehun looks up at him, frayed watercolors rimming his eyes with sorry. He nods slowly and links his fingers with Jongin’s. 

 

“Okay…” His voice is as fragile as a butterfly’s wings fluttering across Jongin’s chest. “I’ll do it - whatever it is… for you…”

 

He closes his eyes when his voice chokes and swipes furiously at the liquid line on his cheek. Jongin holds that hand too, thumb gently softening the shadows beneath his lashes. Sehun relaxes beneath his touch. His lashes quiver beautifully, hair brushing Jongin’s fingers as he sighs. “I don’t know what I’d do without you…” His words are a cloud’s murmur, and almost deftly dancing across Jongin’s cheek instead of blessing his ears, but Jongin smiles when he does hear it. 

 

His answer is a small kiss on the corner of his lips before he slides onto Sehun’s lap to bring the latter into his arms. Sehun pulls him closer too, hands on his waist and tears in his neck as he holds onto Jongin’s every given warmth. Jongin is a full head taller than him like this, but he finds a way to slide lower until his hands cradle the damp locks and hold the trembling ribs in a firm hug. 

 

“We’ll have to lie low. No more stupid talkshows, no more slander or anything on social media about one another. If we’re at an event at the same time, show little interest or at the most a polite relationship.” He soothes the lines of a frown on Sehun’s lips with a chuckle. “I know… it sucks, but definitely better than insulting each other with every chance we get. But we can still sneak out, you know…” He threads his fingers through the latter’s hair. “Take me out, eat me out… your call.” 

 

Sehun laughs. “Sounds like a full course meal.”

 

“I never serve less than five stars.”

 

“I’m sure you do.” Sehun grins up at him. “Boyfriend…  _ My  _ boyfriend… I think it suits you.”

 

Jongin hums. “I have to warn you… Krystal and I had the perfect couple dynamics, but it was pretty light and easy. I haven’t been in an actual relationship in ages…”

 

“I know. Me too. We’ll coach each other through it.” Sehun squeezes his hand. “You’re okay with this, right?”

 

“I’ve never been more sure than anything else.”He says, swooping down to capture that brilliant smile with a kiss as though finding some way to imprint the image to forever keep on his lips as a tantalizing secret - with only Sehun’s lips as a key. 

 

“Good. I think I’ll need more than a few outings…”

 

“I’m sure you can survive, Sehun-ah.”

 

Sehun hums and slips his hands underneath Jongin’s shirt, palms deliciously warm to his skin. “I don’t know… I’m going to miss out on a lot.”

 

“Not really. Think of it this way; we have the whole day to spend together today.”

 

“Movie marathons and sex? I’m game.” 

 

Jongin covers the latter’s mouth. “You’re impossible.” 

 

Sehun kisses his palm. “You love it.” 

 

“Ashamedly, yes.” 

 

“I’ll even let you pick the first movie.” 

 

“Only one?”

 

“Maybe two, if you’re good.” Sehun’s hands roam low on Jongin’s back side, tentative yet dangerously promising.

 

Jongin quirks a brow. “I’m never anything less than angelic.”

 

“Your shower surprise begs to differ.”

 

“I can make exceptions for art.”

 

“And am I included in such privileges?”

 

“You are a masterpiece, Sehun. I’d be your devil for the night if you asked.”

 

Sehun hums against his neck, teeth grazing over the arched skin. “You wouldn’t be able to pick two movies if you were.”

 

“I’m sure a promising punishment is included.”

 

“Ah, you know me too well now.”

 

Jongin smiles at the small kisses placed on his collarbone. “But I believe I’ve proved myself to be as good as gold so far… so show me the movie cabinet?”

 

“Only because you’re too smart and know that I’ll do it anyways. I should play my cards more carefully now.”

 

“Fire has no substance for me, I’ll only use it for good causes; like the protection of my mental sanity.”

 

“You doubt my movie preferences?”

 

“Don’t think I didn’t see the row of chick-flicks in the theater last time? You’re such a girl.”

 

“Bridesmaids is an icon of international culture, and have you ever seen Twilight? The essence of hot possessive guys with magical powers?”

 

“Nah, I prefer your kind of hot magic.” Jongin laughs, hands skittering along Sehun’s neck. Sehun smirks.

 

“Smooth. I could set you up for a role as a chick flick… you could rock a wig.”

 

“I’m starting to think you have a thing for me cross-dressing.”

 

“False, since I’ve never actually seen you cross-dress.”

 

“Only in your dreams?”

 

“All the time.” Sehun whispers before bringing him down for a kiss. 

 

Jongin laughs against his lips, separating after several teasing pecks and hopping off Sehun’s lap. “Movie time.” 

 

***

 

Jongin managed to sneak through a grand total of four action movies before Sehun finally won the wrestle - which was totally unfair by Jongin’s count because nobody said that it was allowed to grind and kiss the other senseless against the wall as a distraction to grab the movie - and when Jongin’s ears stopped ringing from the fading bruises on his neck, the first scene of Twilight was already rolling on the big screen. Jongin started to storm outside when he was tumbled back into an enormous bean bag with a mess of giggles and locked hugs. 

 

Of course it’s too easy to forgive when you’re too lazy to move and Sehun’s arms are too warm to leave, so Jongin resentfully suffered through another two hours of dramatically scripted gazes and bleached squeals - made bearable only thanks to Sehun’s bribing of food and witty comments quipped at the actors on screen. 

 

As Jongin sits in his office the following Monday, Sehun’s laughter still mingles with the birds outside, silk touch restless beneath his skin, heart beating with a tattoo of burning promises of kissed scars. 

 

Sometimes, Jongin’s eyes stray to the lonely couch in the corner of his office, and he’ll briefly wonder what Sehun would look like - lounging on the plush cushions, carefree and beautiful with the sun filtering through his fingertips. Perhaps Jongin could even sneak in a quick sketch or two before Sehun smiled up at him, snipping something about sweet distractions. 

 

_ Just a little bit longer. _

 

**~~~~~~~~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say I'm sorry again for the formatting, I hope it didn't disturb the lecture too much, I'll do my best for the next chapter!


	7. Sugar and champagne

Junmyeon greets Jongin’s happy boyfriend news with a large grin, a bottle of champagne and a handful of chicken.

“Told you it would all work out!”

Jongin laughs, already striding towards the celebrations laid on Junmyeon’s expensive marble table-top. 

“You even bought champagne and chicken… Myeon did I ever mention that I love you?”

“Please don’t start now, I don’t feel like getting pummeled by Sehun’s four-feet shoulders and six foot height.” Junmyeon scoffs, lightly sipping at one of the two flutes.

“He wouldn’t dare, he loves me too much.”

“Thank god I don’t have to see you two in public yet; I might bury myself in marshmallow disgust.” 

“We’re fucking adorable, honestly. He’s so hot, god. He has such a nice mouth.”

“Jongin, you’re drooling all over the table. I know you’re used to detailing all your sexual winnings to me but the champagne is getting flat.”

“But Sehun is so…”

“If you swoon any more you’ll trip.”

“Doesn’t matter; I know he’ll always be there to catch me.”

Junmyeon fakes a startlingly realistic vomiting scene. “God I need to find myself a girlfriend before I die in front of you two.”

“Krystal is really hot in bed, just saying.”

“She’s like, your past two-year fuck buddy, I wouldn’t be able to touch her without thinking that you did it first. It’s awkward.”

“Honestly, the image of me touching her is pretty hot, I’d say, but suit yourself. You could come to the club with me and Sehun, the strippers are insane.”

“If I walked into a club with you two I might just be determined and disgusted enough to find a hookup at light speed.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“No, but I’m ashamedly a settle-down sort of person. I want to be able to lavish somebody I love in pretty things, gold and silk, let everybody know that they’re perfect and beautiful and all mine.”

“So basically you want a sugar baby.”

Junmyeon glares at him. “I don’t have a daddy kink.”

“Don’t need one to fuck a hot girl senseless in a silk dress.”

“You’re filthy.”

Jongin shrugs, reaching over to pop a piece of chicken in his mouth. “Hey, we all have needs. It’s a shame Sehun and I are both rich; it’s near impossible to spoil the other more.”

“You sound like such a rich brat; I thought I raised you better.”

“You raised me just right, hyung, thank you.” Jongin wraps his long arms around the smaller who fidgets in protest. “Stop pretending you don’t like my hugs.”

Junmyeon frowns and sips at his flute. “So, how are you two breathing without one another?”

“You’re my oxygen mask for now.”

“Wow, way to make me feel special. I buy you champagne and chicken and all I am is the pass-time replacement.”

“No, shut up, you know I love you.”

“I know. Can you let go of me now; my arms are getting numb.”

“Liar.” Jongin scoffs but unwraps himself from the elder, snatching a second piece of chicken on the way. Junmyeon lets out an exaggerated sigh as he stretches. 

“No but really, how are you two going to see eachother then?”

“You’re too dramatic, hyung. Honestly, if I deflate my ego a bit, I might come to realise that not every living being really knows who the owner of Juun J. is and might not even care enough to follow my every waking moment-”

“Hate to pop your bubble, but you’re famous enough for the media to beg for you on their talk-shows and for fans to start internet fights over you two. And your entire stupid game was to prove how famous you two were. Don’t smirk like that, that is the last time you will ever hear me compliment your damn ego.”

“You’re sweet, hyung.” Jongin grins, sipping at the fizzing champagne. “And I know it’ll be tough, but we agreed to figure out ways to meet up and leave separately in cafés or clubs or whatever. Decoy cars are easy enough to swerve by the media for months.”

“I guess. You know you can always count on me if you need a place to crash for the night. And no, you two will not fuck in the guest bedroom.”

“But consider this-”

“Eat your chicken, Jongin.” Junmyeon stuffs a leg of meat into the latter’s protesting mouth. “You may crash at my place alone.”

Jongin noisily swallows the chicken leg and blurts another striking offer: “What if I can find you a hookup for the night and you two can go to my place?”

“Your negotiation skills may work on desperate investors but you should know that I’m smarter than the best of them.”

“No, seriously. What about your apartment in the middle of Seoul? Nobody knows about it, and I’ll clean up the whole place; you won’t even have to step foot inside of it until your next business trip.” Jongin argues with his chin high, fingers carefully poised above his knees. Junmyeon matches his stance as though they were concluding a multi-million business deal instead of just Jongin begging for a place to shamelessly have a night’s fun with his boyfriend.

“Pay for the rent for the entire months of August and September and you can stay there.”

Jongin pouts. “You play dirty, hyung. That apartment is practically made of gold!”

“You two will certainly play dirtier on my bed; might as well make you suffer for pleasure.”

Jongin curses. “You’re too good at this. Alright, deal. Don’t even tell me the rent right now, I’ll cry later.”

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Jongin.” Junmyeon raises his glass with a wicked grin. Jongin only grunts and falls back into the couch pillows, gnawing on his chicken leg like a frustrated dog. 

“I’m happy for you, though. I think the last time I saw you this giddy and soft was when you had your first real fashion show.” 

Jongin cooes. “You still remember my first fashion show… I knew you loved me too much.” 

“Can’t you take a compliment without making me feel like a cold grandfather?”

“You always snap at me, now I’m sad.” Jongin pouts and turns his back to his friend. Junmyeon sighs. He walks over to sprawl himself over the younger in an endearing attempt at a cuddle. Jongin, of course, laughs and pulls him in for a hug, kissing his head. “You’re cute, Myeon.”

“Whatever. I’m happy for you.”

“I know you are. Thank you. I really promise to hook you up one day.”

“Yeah yeah… find me an actual girlfriend and I’ll let you live in my apartment for as long as you need.”

“Free of rent?”

“That depends on the girlfriend.”

“Deal. I know some of Krytsal’s friends who have been drooling over your chest since New Year’s.”

“And you never bothered to tell me?”

“Didn’t think you were that thirsty.”

Junmyeon slaps his arm. “There’s a thin line between thirst and curiosity. And besides, you’re one to talk; you flirt shamelessly with almost anything that breathes.”

“True, but Sehun is pretty much the same, so that’ll be fun. And maybe kinky, if I’m lucky.”

“Too much information - Junmyeon excel. has shut down, please never speak to it again.”

Jongin laughs. “Alright I’ll spare you for now.”

“You realise I’m not half drunk enough to actually keep up with you yet.” 

Jongin pours him another glass of the expensive bubbly. 

“Well make yourself comfortable because I’m here to gush about my boyfriend for another two hours.”

Junmyeon mutters a curse and downs half the glass. He then blinks a couple times like a confused child and it’s ridiculously adorable to Jongin’s mushed heart. Junmyeon sighs. “So you two are going to sneak around and not talk for a couple months and then come out together at one point?”

“When all the hype has died and Sehun’s company starts getting more stable with the media and all, yeah.”

“You’re aware that to the public eye you’re still currently somewhat dating Krystal?”

Jongin’s eyes widen. “Fuck. Forgot about that.”

“I don’t think Sehun will be too pleased about that detail.”

“Dammit. I have to go through a breakup now… No, it won’t be too bad; I’m pretty sure she’s been eyeing Junhui for the past month… We were on the same boat, she won’t scream at me. But damn I can’t be assed to deal with the drama of a public breakup right now.” Jongin whines into the pillow. 

“Better now than never.”

“I have to go see her though, phone breakup is not an option.”

“That’s my good child.”

“Can I bring the chicken with me?”

“If it helps you sleep at night.”

“You know it does. You’re the best, hyung.” Jongin gets away with one last hug and a far too quick shot of champagne before he’s texting Krystal’s number to meet her at his house for good measure. 

“Don’t say anything stupid.”

“Should’ve thought of that before you bought champagne.”

“About that, you better hurry back here after; there’s no fucking way I’m drinking this alone.”

“If I tell her to bring a hot sugarbaby on the way, you won’t be alone.”

Junmyeon grimaces. “I’m not sexy when I’m drunk. Just come back alone and be stupid with me please.”

Jongin smiles and taps Junmyeon’s nose. “Alright, just for you.”

“Don’t tell Sehun.” Junmyeon whispers. 

“I’m all yours.” Jongin fakes a flying kiss. Junmyeon grins and waves him off. 

“Don’t keep me waiting too long.” 

“I’ll wake you up nicely if you fall asleep.”

“Sure. Go be gentle and sexy.”

“You know I always am.” Jongin chirps as he strides towards the front door phone and box of chicken in hand. 

_____

Krystal is already sipping at a cup of tea in Jongin’s kitchen when he arrives - long black hair sweeping so tame underneath his fingertips, perfume softening her sharp edges as she lounges on the couch like sweet home. He fiddles with his fingers and tumbles over his words but in the end, Krystal’s face only breaks out into a smile to tease him about how she knew it from the start. 

“You two would be good together.”

“So you’re not mad?”

“Of course not. I know I’m not really your actual girlfriend, although we had a bunch of fun times together, I’m kind of satisfied that you two finally got together.” 

Jongin sighs in relief. “You’re the best, Krystal.”

Her fingers skim along the teacup. “I know. Besides, Mingyu has been eyeing me for a while now. I was worried about asking you or something for the sake of not making things awkward but now that’s solved…”

“Mingyu? Damn, I thought it was Junhui this whole time.”

“Junhui is hot, not going to lie, but he’s a bit too shy and it looks like I might have some competition with the other new chinese intern - Minghao, I think.”

“There’s no competition when you step in the game anyways.”

“You’re sweet, Jongin. But I think of Junhui more like a tiny cat, like you just want to keep him in your pocket and protect him you know?”

“Thought you just said you would let him choke you when he modeled for Gucci that last time.”

“Double persona shit. Need I remind you that you actually ended up choking me close after that - I almost thought it was jealous sex at first.” Krystal smirks when Jongin rubs the back of his neck. “But Mingyu has half the model section trailing after his heels and it would be fun to just walk in and snatch him from Sunmi’s begging hands. I can’t wait to see the look on her face when I do now.”

Jongin cackles. “You’re awesome. I’m going to miss that.” 

“Hey, we can still hang out afterwards. I mean, once I have Mingyu, we’ll both be in relationships anyways, so no chance of us hooking up or anything.” She shrugs. “I’m going to miss you though, Sehun is one lucky guy to have all of you now.” She winks and Jongin actually blushes. 

“Same goes for Mingyu, I’m going to miss you too.” 

“Aw stop it Jongin, come and hug me.”

Jongin can’t help but smile as he climbs onto the couch and pulls her in to rest between his legs, her slender figure familiar and warm in his arms. Her head fits into the crook of his neck too easily as he draws small circles on her slim waist. 

“Are you shorter than Sehun?” She asks, comparing her tiny hand to Jongin’s. 

“I think I am actually. Not by much though.”

“How cute, I never thought I’d get to see you as a bottom.”

Jongin’s eyes widen. “I’m the sexiest top around.”

“Don’t need to prove that to me, I’ve got enough experience with you to talk.” She chuckles, “You’d bottom for Sehun though.”

“There are way too many things which I’d make exceptions for Sehun.” 

“Damn you’re whipped. That’s actually really cute. Are you two going public soon?”

Jongin sighs into her hair. “It’s a long story but we both agreed that we would wait out the media for a while until the whole thing dies down, and then we might come out together in October or something.”

“That’s a long time. Are you two going to sneak around Seoul like some thirsty teenagers trying to hook up without their parents finding out?”

“Teenagers with luxury hidden apartments. I managed to convince Junmyeon to let me borrow his penthouse for two months just in case.”

“That’s actually such a good idea. But I bet he made you pay hard for it.”

“Rent for two months too. That’ll hurt like a bitch.”

“Pretty sure it’ll hurt less than you bottoming for Sehun.”

Jongin gasps and attacks Krystal’s sides with every one of her ticklish spots until she’s cackling and thrashing for air in his arms. She eventually manages to bite his neck on his exact weak spot until he hisses and removes his hands to cover her mouth.

“Fuck you, Sehun will kill me if I come back to him after somewhat breaking up with you with a hickey.” He groans. Krystal’s laughs are muffled on his chest. 

“You’ll thank me later if he punishes you with good sex.”

“You’re just as bad as me.”

“That’s why we lasted so long together. Hope Sehun will be able to beat my record.” She wiggles her eyebrows. Jongin clicks his tongue. 

“Don’t be jealous, babe.”

She rolls her eyes. “Hey, no more pet-names now. You just broke up with me. I should be crying right now. Hold on let me get my tears ready.” She looks at the ceiling batting her lashes until a thin film of mist covers them in a perfect hollywood tear-jerker when she turns to face Jongin with vulnerable eyes and a watery pout. 

“You know, there are some pretty hot actors in kdramas.”

She scoffs and dabs lightly at the corner of her eyes to avoid smudging mascara. “Models are way better.” 

“Sehun models like a god.”

“You have good taste, Jongin. I mean, look at me.”

He laughs. “Too true. Junmyeon always say I’m spoilt.”

“You really are, but who am I to judge?” She shrugs as she turns to lie on her side instead, both holding one another in a loose fashion. There’s a minute silence of Krystal spreading her fingers across his chest and Jongin drawing lines along her figure with mere natural impulses and casual touches.

“How do you want to publish this new status then?” Jongin asks.

“Honestly if you’re trying to avoid the media, then the best thing to do it just to get a source to ‘leak’ the information and then just give a brief answer with no heartfelt feelings if asked.”

Jongin nods.

“It’s almost four, I have an appointment for my nails and all that. God, being a girl sometimes sucks.”

“You’re doing a pretty good job at it, I’d say.”

“I sure hope so, seeing as how I work my ass off for it all.”

He chuckles and places a kiss on her forehead. 

“Hey Jongin, can you kiss me before I go?”

He hesitates, but figures that it’s the least he can do for her after all this time. Two years worth of being best friends with a whole lot of sweet benefits, one last kiss is merely a means to seal a package of wrapped up memories.

So he smiles and gently pulls her by the chin to meet his lips. It’s the same as it’s always been; soft and sexy, but this time there’s something more gentle in the way she presses her lips to his, her fingers running through his hair and tracing the lines of his cheekbones as though memorizing the places that make him shiver, the areas which will make him groan and tighten her hips if she wishes. 

Today, there’s no fire or lust in the way they hold each other, tongues and lips merely old lovers with platonic partings. Every press of their hands and sweep of their lips is most likely to be the last, and neither are ones to pass by anything glittering in gold or slick in daring silver to drip onto their rich tongues. 

Jongin might squeeze her breasts one last time or elicit one or two sweet moans from her small mouth; since it’ll surely be the last time he’ll touch another woman for a long time. He closes his eyes to her familiar kisses on his neck, thinks about how different it is compared to Sehun - neither good nor bad, merely the opposition of sexes that Jongin’s sexuality has managed to revel in with equal fervor. 

Maybe he’ll miss her soft breasts the most, or how small she is in his arms, how easy it is to flip her over and have her gasping innocent moans when he grinds against her slim thigh, how her long raven hair always sweeps across her bare shoulders like a feather in the snow, her practiced expressions of surprise when his hand slips underneath her shirt. He chuckles and pecks her lips.

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Got to give you something to remember of girls, right? You won’t be laughing when Sehun tops you like this.” She breathes.

Jongin laughs and squeezes her breast in protest. She closes her eyes and bites her lip. “Fuck that’s actually a really hot image, I should stop talking.”

“Agreed.” He smiles, removing his hand from her shirt to cradle her face in his hands for one long kiss, her hand pulling him closer by the back of his neck. 

They finally finish when Krystal’s phone rings and she pushes Jongin off with an annoyed huff. They both get up smiling, and Jongin finishes her tea when she’s not looking, before accompanying her to the door. She turns to hug him one last time. 

“I’m going to miss your perfect height. Mingyu is really too tall.”

“It’ll be cute though.”

“Sure. Let me know how things are going with Sehun alright? I’m really curious to hear how you two are as soft for each other as it seems.”

“Disgustingly soft, according to Junmyeon. Same for you and Mingyu. Just no sex while you’re in your modelling clothes alright? Even if it’s for other brands, that would suck.”

“Fine.” She laughs against his chest. “I’ll probably tell my hairstylist how we broke up. I’ll be chill about it, don’t worry. No tears or else everything will be screwed, I know.”

“You’re awesome, Krystal.” He pecks her forehead.

“Tell me about it. Well, I’m off then. See you around the office.”

They kiss and hug, and soon enough Jongin is waving her goodbye as she leaves his driveway in her purple Porsche, his heart coated with a certain lightness and dipped in nostalgia when he’s left alone, smiling at her empty teacup on the table.

-

When Jongin finally returns to Junmyeon’s house after having finished his precious box of chicken, the short business man practically shoves a glass of champagne in his hand before downing it like a shot. Jongin is almost alarmed before he realizes that his own vision is somewhat swimming and that his laughs are giggles bubbling past his lips before he knows it. 

Both of their tolerance has always been shamefully low, so they of course get into a drunken tussle about who can hold beer the best (neither win of course, since their legs soon give out and they end up falling asleep on the soft carpet). Jongin doesn’t mind; he’s been in need of a little fun with his best friend. But the first thing in his dreams will always be a pale smile and dark tattoo.


	8. Shadowed lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love me  
> In your darkest dreams  
> In my holiest light

The August heat clings to Jongin’s skin like dry film, everyday commutes fading into half-developed photography; hot wind dripping off a picture frame, fragile clothes with saturated flashes of skin, colors bleeding into a watered stain, red smiles burning the clipped edges. Night-time is the only release for a breath of summer kiss; staring at fluorescent lamps until the world darkens and glows with negative edges, raw light hollowing out the empty windows and frayed reflections of Sehun’s cheekbones, bleached hair colored charcoal under the night’s kiss, black shirt shifting against the brick walls, fingerprints staining Jongin’s jaw in golden dust. 

The clock stills its hours for a second, resting in the spaces between their lips, coating their precious time together in a cloak of summer secrecy between alleys and hushed promises into tousled hair. 

Sometimes, time is forgiving enough to disfigure its hands into stretched lovers reaching out to spend an entire night together, stumbling inside Junmyeon’s sleek penthouse with impatient hands and breathless kisses, falling into a discolored scenery of rainbow lights drizzling down the large windows, grey raindrops reflecting the gentle slide of Sehun’s fingers down his chest, Jongin breathing in leather and cologne from every touch of lips pressed to his collarbones, hot love and cool air slipping underneath his shirt with feathered whispers. They didn’t bother to turn on the lights; casting both lovers in a midnight glow of reflected city-lights softened through silent rain. 

Sehun’s eyes glint in a darkened haze as he looks up at him through blonde strands, Jongin’s stilled breath is heavy in the living-room as open kisses pepper down his naked torso. Nails graze over his nipples for a soft gasp. Jongin tugs Sehun back up to him, whispers something about him wearing too many clothes. 

Sehun straddles his hips to swiftly strip away his thin shirt, and Jongin suddenly feels incredibly small, a polaroid to frame Sehun’s famous silhouette which he traces with burning hands. He can see the lines of Sehun’s smile through the shadows. Jongin finds his lips smiling back, finds himself whispering “kiss me”, finds his eyes closing as Sehun’s lips mould against his. 

Everything is still too cold. He needs more of that hot friction on his skin, more than just the teasing taste of Sehun’s quiet moans on his tongue. He pulls him closer, rocks his hips until Sehun gasps into his mouth, swallowing more and more luxury when he finally is rewarded with that promised heat, grinding hard on his hips, shuddering curses and whines. Kissing becomes more of a distraction at this point as Jongin’s entire world narrows down to a frame of white pleasure blooming between his thighs at Sehun’s heavy touch. Sehun pants something about being okay with this, and all Jongin can do is whisper, gasp, groan, “yes, please, please, Sehun…”

Sehun can only indulge, of course - he always does.

There’s a brief moment of cold when Sehun’s body heat leaves him, but there are sparks dancing along his thighs and time suddenly seems too slow with Sehun gone searching what seems like the seven seas of hell for Jongin’s cold body. The cold is unbearable and Jongin’s eyes are closed - before he knows it he’s unbuttoned his jeans, roughly palming himself through regretfully tight boxers. There’s a sigh on his tongue at the imitation of loving touch, and a deep chuckle by his ear. 

“Patience is a virtue, baby.” 

Jongin shivers at the pet name, gasps when Sehun is straddling his lap once again, trapping his hand between his thighs. Jongin briefly registers the two small packets in Sehun’s hand before there are lips on his jaw and a hard pressure on his hand and cock. Arousal boils between his thighs and Jongin does what he can to satisfy; drawing sweet pressure from his hand as well as Sehun’s own tented jeans.

It takes so little to flare sparks into flames with Sehun’s breath on his skin and heavy hips on his, and soon enough there are pleas tumbling from his lips once more. Sehun’s laughs against his neck are quick to turn into whines when Jongin bucks more forcefully against his hips in protest. Sehun bites down on his neck and rips Jongin’s hand from his jeans. 

“Come on, it won’t be fun if I’m not the one getting you hard.”

“You’re slow.”

“I’ll make up for it.” Sehun makes true to his word by stripping Jongin’s jeans, leaving him in only bare boxers. Jongin’s jeans are on the floor, his hands are clutching the couch’s armrest, teeth clenched when Sehun slips a hand into his boxers with a surprisingly slick hand. 

“Fuck when did you-”

“I came prepared. Had to find a way to go faster.” Sehun grins, painting Jongin’s aching cock down to his sac - fuck. One finger already prodding at his ass. Jongin yelps and grips Sehun’s shoulders.

“Wait - Junmyeon’s room… down the hall.” 

Sehun huffs, “Couldn’t have mentioned that earlier?” Jongin doesn’t have time to snap back before he’s suddenly being carried across the penthouse, one wet hand hooking his knees, another warm on his back, Sehun’s silhouette shifting shadows and refracting streetlights across the walls until there’s a soft duvet on his back and immediately the lubed hand rough on his skin. Jongin’s briefs have been discarded somewhere between the hallway and living room - but Jongin really doesn’t have half a mind to question it when the newly acquainted finger is again prodding at his hole. Jongin bites his lip. Sehun notices.

“Haven’t used this place in a while it looks like.”

“Yeah. Go gentle for me?”

“Sure; You can be my little virgin.” Sehun grins up at him, pressing kisses to Jongin’s hard shaft. Jongin hasn’t bottomed for at least eight years, but Sehun makes it feel like a century when he pushes in his finger completely. Jongin decidedly prefers topping. He clenches his teeth and Sehun does his best to soothe him, murmuring praises on his skin, kissing up his thighs. Two painstakingly slow fingers later, Jongin is starting to arch his back, rocking into Sehun’s hand. He knows there’s a spot somewhere - ah! He gasps curses, eyes rolling to the back of his head with a shudder as he clutches the sheets. Sehun smirks.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” 

He crooks his fingers a couple more times until Jongin is clutching his hair and panting his name. It’s at that very moment when Sehun decides to remove his hand altogether. Jongin almost shouts. He hears Sehun laugh, the bed shifting as there’s a rustle of clothes, the shredding of plastic, obscene quiet panting above him. 

“Didn’t think we were going to have sex with my jeans on, did you? That would be kind of complicated.”

Jongin frowns. “Smartass. You’re barely hard.”

“Trust me, I’ll get there soon enough.” Sehun breathes before crashing his lips against Jongin’s, nudging inside him the relief of two fingers, all while stroking himself against Jongin’s stomach. Jongin whines and pulls Sehun closer, and soon they’re a mess of frottage and lube and building lust, tongues and nails dragging across skin and lips for more, more, more. 

“Ready?” Sehun whispers against his lips, jabbing his fingers just so -

“Yes”

It’s near pathetic how needy he sounds, but it’s a sound that makes Sehun groan and jerk himself off faster, so Jongin takes note and continues letting senseless whines tumble from his lips as he rolls his hips against Sehun’s, trying for that newfound spark of stimulation again when Sehun mutters curses into his chest, suddenly gone completely for a second before there’s something far bigger dragging across his ass. 

Jongin hardly has a minute before there’s a shove and Jongin’s entire world goes black. There’s a pole that’s been shoved straight up his ass and Jongin is wholly convinced of murder. He hasn’t realized that he was sobbing until he hears Sehun worrying above him, peppering kisses all over his cheeks to regain color. 

“Shit shit shit, Jongin please don’t cry, fuck I’m so sorry,it would just never breach if I didn’t go, god please talk, holy shit I’m so sorry -”

Jongin silences him with a finger on his lips because words are a holy thing that Jongin can’t fathom to scramble for from his current place in hell and pain. He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw until it pops. Sehun kisses the tears sliding down his cheeks. It feels like there’s a demon clawing inside him with nails of fire, scratching and stretching him until his entire anatomy is disfigured to accommodate Sehun’s length. It burns like a bitch. 

“Jesus I don’t remember it hurting this much.” Jongin chokes.

“I’m sorry… I swear, I promise, promise it gets better.” Sehun tries. Jongin can hear the badly concealed pleasure in Sehun’s voice among the worry, and he looks up. 

“Does it feel good?” 

Sehun nods with shut eyes. Jongin bites his lip. “Okay. Move.”

“But you’re -”

“I’m not going to be a bitch and leave you hanging. You promised to make it good. Get on with it. I’ll get used to it.” Jongin lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes. Might as well get the worst over with; this definitely won’t be the last time Jongin is graced with Sehun’s cock shoved inside him. 

He feels Sehun brace his hands on his hips. A first few tentative thrusts are bullets of pain through his spine, but Jongin clenches his teeth - almost breaks his jaw and rips the bedsheets - and gets through it all until the burn starts to dull into a final numbness and there’s a focus on Sehun’s throbbing cock stretching his walls in a new way. 

Sehun thumbs at the corners of Jongin’s lips. “Feels a bit better? Smiling looks far better on you.” 

Jongin grins. “Yeah. Think you can show me all your secret talents now.” 

Sehun kisses him. “Sounds like fun.”

He pulls out and pushes back in, the slide something alongside the lines of simmering pleasure finally building again inside Jongin. Sehun lowers himself to lick at Jongin’s nipples, holding him closer until his hips are completely flush against Jongin’s. Jongin lets out a shaky moan, legs twitching as they pick up a gradual pace. Sehun pulses thick and long inside of him and Jongin finally lets his back arch and pant into the dark room, tugging blonde hair at hazard when teeth graze his chest. 

There are curses muttered beneath dripping tongues, lust licking along throbbing members, pleasure running across their veins. Sehun thrusts rather forcefully when Jongin leaves a harsh hickey on the bottom of his collarbone, and Jongin’s jaw falls completely slack at the shock of pleasure that just shot up his spine. “Fuck Sehun… there… do it again…”

Sehun smirks and complies, proceeds by hitting the exact spot over and over again like a bell. Jongin’s vision swims with arousal and white heat boiling along his jaw, compressing his lungs with moans and desperate pants as he rocks and clenches onto Sehun’s sweet length. Sehun curses and praises Jongin’s name in senseless languages along Jongin’s neck, biting and groaning at every thrust, every trail of fire Jongin’s nails drag down his back in pitiful mercy. 

It’s nothing but desperate, hard thrusts, arched backs and merciful whines until Sehun grabs Jongin’s aching cock and pumps and presses hard until Jongin clenches and comes with a gasp onto his stomach. His vision is swimming with white but Sehun still hasn’t come yet. Jongin bites down of his lip when he focuses on rubbing his oversensitive shaft on Sehun’s abs just to pull the final reaction, whining Sehun’s name as he drags hard nails along his lower back. Sehun finally groans and pulls out to throw off the condom and jerk himself to completion. He comes on Jongin’s stomach as well, translucent cum slick against Jongin’s tanned skin. 

“That was hot.” Jongin breathes a laugh when Sehun smiles and leans down to kiss him. 

“It really was.” Sehun’s voice is shaking from the oversensitivity, but his hands are light in Jongin’s hair and touch careful on his body.

Sehun shakes his head. “You scared the shit out of me when I saw you crying. I was ready to pull out and never dare touch you again. But you did so good. You’re okay now, right?”

“I’m fine now, you were great. I just might not be able to walk for the next week but it’s okay.”

“I’ll take care of you.” Sehun says, kissing his cheek, “Where’s Junmyeon’s bathroom?” 

Jongin points to the door and patiently waits for Sehun’s return with a damp wash-cloth. Sehun cleans him up quickly enough just so that he can wrap his arms around Jongin sooner than later and cuddle beneath the sheets. Jongin winces once or twice when they shift on his backside, but Sehun is always there to pepper him with kisses and rub circles on his stomach until he softens again and curls into his chest. 

Time then breaches it’s loving hands into morning. The veil of night and sliding raindrops pool off the frame like the crumpled sheets on Junmyeon’s floor, sunshine gliding its fingers across tanned skin and pale lips, a careful polaroid of dreams and suits dressed up with silver cufflinks and slow farewells. The light shifts between them until they’re only brushing fingertips, only longing gazes in the flash of cameras and fashion business, aching secrets buried beneath decoy cars and their blinding black. 

They always part with a new promise to ink their hearts when they’re apart, to sigh over endless mounds of papers and phone calls and scheduled rendez-vous, because amidst it all, there’s that one sliver of hope that rustles beneath the jewels in their watches, ticking hands drawing ever so closer to that next time when they can finally meet again - it’s his favorite breath of a summer kiss. 

Staring at fluorescent lamps until the world darkens and glows with negative edges, raw light hollowing out the empty windows and frayed reflections of Sehun’s cheekbones, bleached hair colored charcoal under the night’s kiss, black shirt shifting against the brick walls, fingerprints staining Jongin’s jaw in golden dust. The clock stills its hours for a second, resting in the spaces between their lips, coating their precious time together in a cloak of summer secrecy between alleys and hushed promises into tousled hair. 

More and more are the times they find themselves stumbling into dark rooms - Junmyeon’s apartment or Zitao’s borrowed bed - Sehun’s whispers in his neck and hand on his cock, stripped and hot in the summer heat, cool kisses and burning stretch more and more familiar with Jongin’s body at every faithful encounter. 

They’re both quick learners; time hardly giving them a chance to be stupid slow at things - and it’s not long before Sehun knows where to crook his fingers, when to hiss filthy dreams into his neck for the reward of sweet moans. Jongin, in turn, discovers the places where his bites make Sehun shiver, when to moan just loud enough to make him come hard with his tongue down his throat. 

It’s a steady ritual that lasts long enough throughout the heat of the month; refracting into the simmering city streets and frozen moments spent curled up together in strange bed sheets. And every morning that slices through their linked fingers and tangled limbs is only a chained reminder that both swear to break one day, when morning will no longer be a supplice.

~~


	9. Trust us

A breeze ruffles the papers on Jongin’s desk, but the heat still gnaws at the back of his neck like a drooling dog. Something pops up on his twitter timeline: a stunning picture of a girl relaxing beneath a sunny shade, long black hair sweeping over her thin shoulders, a small red smile lined in the summer sun. Jongin has to smile; Krystal always does take the best pictures. They’ve officially broken things up for at least three months now, but Jongin still thinks the public should know they’re good friends; a small thought which makes him comment good wishes for her vacation, and how she definitely needed it. He can trust Krystal enough to reply with all her wit and fun, letting clients be contempt with a clearer situation.

 

He’s just putting his phone down when his secretary buzzes him an email about an odd problem among their line of production. The most important, however, is the unexpected phone call.

 

“Sehun? What’s wrong? You know we can’t talk at work…” He whispers into the phone, nervously eyeing the corridor before closing the door.

 

**_“I know, I know. It’s just, something serious has happened and I’m fucking pissed, and you’re the only one I can talk to without snapping a neck-”_ **

 

“Woah, slow down. Tell me what’s up.”

 

He hears a shaky breath on the other end.  **_“Some irrelevant blogger decided it would be funny to invent a scandal about my company’s production line on Naver. It’s five pages of slander, saying how my employees are underpaid, live in conditions are horrible as Apple and that five workers fell ill due to toxins in the materials - it’s absolute bullshit and I refuse to let them get away with it. Fuck staying on the low and playing to the media, they’ve gone too far.”_ **

 

Jongin frowns. He’d have to look into his secretary’s forwarded emails later; maybe it was connected to Sehun’s problem. 

 

“Do you have any idea as to who might want to bring you down? You should sue.”

 

**_“I have no idea, the username was something about fashion, though. But to sue? I don’t have half the influence I need to sue a company as huge as Naver…”_ **

 

“Since when are you hesitant about your position? You’re the Daredevil, CEO of Korea’s best rising company, tall, sexy and confident; who are you to bite your nails over some small blogger?” 

 

**_“I know… I don’t know… It would concern Naver more than just the blogger though…  I’m just mad and hurt that someone would even stoop this low after all this time…”_ **

 

“Hey, remember what we talked about? Remember what I said? I’m with you every step of the way. Okay? I’ll stand right by you. First, I need you to link me the article. Then, you’re going to sue that company - or at least threaten to sue - and I’m going to publicly support you and offer backup.”

 

**_“You would really do that?”_ **

 

“There are few things I wouldn’t do in this world to keep your smile.”

 

**_“Shut up, you romantic, I’m already whipped for you enough as it is.”_ **

 

Jongin smiles. “I miss you already.” 

 

**_“You always hurt me when you talk like that. I miss you too.”_ **

 

“I know. We’ll see eachother soon enough though to talk more about this…”

 

**_“Will we go public after this?”_ ** Sehun’s hopeful grin is audible and Jongin can’t help but blush.

 

“I think that could work out smoothly enough, I mean, there’s going to be speculation and rumors about it anyways.”

 

**_“This might be the best news of the day.”_ **

 

“Wait for me to celebrate it.”

 

**_“You know I will. But I’m going to look more into this blogger and how to bring them down.”_ **

 

“Same. My secretary just notified me about something strange in our own production line, so maybe it’s somehow linked. I’ll forward it to you if I find anything.”

 

**_“That’s weird. I hope it’s nothing serious… Do you think you could also find somebody with contacts in the media that would be willing to play on our side for this whole thing?”_ **

 

Jongin taps his fingers on his desk, humming. “I don’t know… oh, what about Kyungsoo?”

 

**_“He stressed you out. He’s a jerk. Out of the question.”_ **

 

“Calm down, mom. I was just rattled and unsure before. Kyungsoo is smart and works for an important newspaper. He already suspects us anyways, so if we confirm it in front of him, he’ll trust us and will be willing to help. He has good contacts, and he seems like someone who can keep a secret.”

 

**_“He’s a journalist, he can’t even imagine the definition of the word secret.”_ **

 

“You’re so skeptical. Let me handle this part of the case. You just asked for someone with contacts on social media and who would be willing to be on our side, why are you complaining?”

 

**_“He’s the whole reason we’re in this mess.”_ **

 

“He is not. We would honestly still be here, Kyungsoo or not, and I’ll still stand by your side, Kyungsoo or not. Now, are we going to work together for this?”

 

Sehun sighs through static.  **_“Fine. Call him to meet up somewhere tomorrow. The minute he steps out of line, we’re leaving.”_ **

 

“You’re such a protective dad. I’m not a weak girl, you know.”

 

**_“I know. Let me pretend I can be a strong boyfriend too though, alright?”_ **

 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

 

Sehun clicks his tongue. **_“Wouldn’t be talking so smart if I couldn’t walk for three days straight because my boyfriend fucked me on his friend’s table.”_ **

 

Jongin gasps. “Just for that, you’re going to be the one to pay for a new table before the month ends. And the penthouse rent. And no kisses tomorrow.”

 

**_“You’re cruel. As if you can resist me for that long.”_ **

 

“Try me bitch.”

 

**_“Jongin-ah…”_ ** Sehun whines into the phone and Jongin fights the smile from his lips. 

 

“See you tomorrow, Daredevil.”

 

Jongin hangs up before Sehun can protest any more, feeling far too smug. 

 

The notification on his computer, however, diverts his attention. He settles his phone to scroll through the email. Paragraphs about warning him of an infiltrated reporter in one of his cloth-sewing factories in Busan; a factory conviniently close to Nohant’s own production line. The email is sparse in details about the break-in, so it must have been of little importance. Maybe the blogger had accidentally stumbled into Juun J.’s building instead of Nohant’s. The email notifies Jongin of a common flu going around the factory and how production might be a little slower than usual since the fashion company takes attentive care of their workers’ health for optimal results.

 

Jongin opens the link that Sehun sent him minutes ago. The article is indeed five pages long, with angry paragraphs accusing Nohant and it’s CEO from every ruthless angle available. There’s one that brings up the same problem of sickness going around in the companies’ production buildings; but formulated and wrongly twisted to make it seem like it was caused by illegal toxins in the materials. The following paragraph links the sickness to poor health conditions and dramatic underpayments. 

 

The rest of the article only builds in intensity as it goes on to criticize Sehun personally as a cold CEO with little regard to his company’s well-being. The whole things simply reeks of false information and obvious personal grudges that Jongin himself can’t help the disgust from boiling inside him. No wonder Sehun was absolutely livid when he called; Jongin would have already been out for blood if it was his company being accused of such scandals. 

 

Jongin decides to email Kyungsoo first. He includes the link to the article, a polite plea for his help, and the coordinates to find the coffee shop as the location for a possible meeting the following day. 

 

He then leans back in his chair with a sigh, flexing his fingers across shadows on his sketches. He needs to figure how out a way to help prove the information all wrong for Sehun, and the only thing that comes to mind is a business trip to Busan to gather photographic proof on the site itself. 

 

There’s so much work to do with the Seoul fashion week approaching, papers and endless calls to handle, and yet Jongin pushes it all away in the blink of an eye with a single plea from Sehun. Jongin smiles at himself and shakes his head. 

He’ll have to be early tomorrow, handle Kyungsoo with open maturity, and avoid any kisses with Sehun.

 

Tomorrow was going to be rough. 

 

______

 

Jongin waits inside the coffee shop, nervously smoothing his ironed shirt over and over. He was an embarrasing fifteen minutes early and the wait was physically excruciating. He ordered a glass of water to somewhat cool the sweat threatening to break out on his neck.

 

Thankfully, the door chimes only ten minutes before the rendez-vous time. In steps Do Kyungsoo, in plain clothes, looking almost small and innocent as his round eyes search the cafe for Jongin. Jongin isn’t sure whether he’s relieved or even more nervous now, but he manages to pull a smile and greet the journalist. Kyungsoo’s gaze hardens and roams Jongin with skeptical curiosity as they shake hands. 

 

Jongin thanks him for coming, and assures him that Sehun will be joining them shortly. Kyungsoo only nods and follows Jongin into the secluded booth at the back of the cafe. So far, Jongin is the only one scrambling for conversation and coffee orders. They both order a black coffee anyway, taste as somber as the current atmosphere. 

 

“It’s strange, you weren’t even this nervous at our first meeting.”

 

“Coffee makes me jittery, I guess.”

 

Kyungsoo nods, obviously too smart to buy it. Jongin is about to back up his affirmation when somebody walks up to the booth and Kyungsoo stands. Jongin almost sighs in relief when he sees Sehun’s tall figure respectfully shaking hands with Kyungsoo. Sehun slides to sit next to him, his hand only briefly skimming over Jongin’s thigh. Kyungsoo notices and raises an eyebrow.

 

“I know we’re here for the article and all that, but I think we need to clarify one thing before we start. You’ll be pleased to hear that we’re dating. Not publicly, but yes, your suspicions were correct.” Kyungsoo’s lips twist into something like a triumphant smirk as his gaze darts between the two. Jongin decides to add in. 

 

“We’re telling you this because we need a mutual trust to be on the same side for this lawsuit. There’s only three of us against this growing scandal and we need every bit of teamwork and strength that we can get. We won’t hide anything from you, but we need your word that you will not publish anything without our accord about this.”

 

Kyungsoo leans back in his seat, a grin on his lips that rather suits him. “It’s funny how much you both defended and denied my suspicions before, and now you’re both laying it on the table without qualms. I want to say I’m disappointed, but I guess this is pretty fun too. Didn’t you say something about me being a threat, Jongin? But you two were really together the whole time… well played.” 

 

Jongin stiffens. “Of course you were a threat. You talked about exposure and shame about the whole thing.”

 

Sehun holds his chin high, and Jongin can practically feel the anger striking the atmosphere without a glance.

“You can’t pretend it’s not true though. This won’t be taken lightly. It’ll be painful for a while.”

“Trust me, we know that. But we trust our companies’ power and the support it provides. Like finally having you on our side.” Sehun states with cold affinity.

Kyungsoo lightly scratches a stain on the table. “Alright. If you’re so confident in your overly-rated fashion influence, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to be on the rich side.”

“I hope you keep your articles more professional than that.”

“If I didn’t, we wouldn’t be here, now would we Mr. Oh?”

There’s a snarl beginning to line Sehun’s lips, so Jongin jumps in before coffee cups fly. “Well, now that we really are here, on the same side, cooperating together to bring bad articles down, let’s talk business.”

The two men recline in their seats, fierce glares still shooting across the table.

“Fine. Yes I’m on your side. Naver has always been a trash website with way too much money, and this is an opportunity to chip at their prestige the same way they dig at everyone else’s. But you’re really planning to sue?”

“We were thinking of starting with the threat of a lawsuit and if they decide to contest and follow through with it, I will publicly offer my support and evidence. By those means, we can also hopefully get an open door to our relationship.”

“I still stand by the fact that it’ll be a tough open door no matter what, but it’s a good beginning. It’s better if you start by showing you’re both on the same side right from the start. It’ll be more intimidating, and Naver or the blogger’s lawyer will have less chances to stand against you and go through with the lawsuit. But what kind of evidence can you provide? From what the article disclosed, the two companies aren’t linked.”

Jongin explains the flu going around in Busan, the accidental break-in and the strangely obvious target against Nohant. Kyungsoo folds his hands together and nods. 

“I’ve read the article a couple times and the style is blunt, badly constructed and almost spat-out onto the keyboard. It’s clearly not the article of a professional, and so I thought that the sources would be skeptical as well. Add onto that the targeted rage, and you can conclude that it could be some kind of personal revenge against you, Sehun. Is there anybody that you’ve offended lately, or that could want to bring you down?”

“Well, publicly, Juun J. and all their fans, I guess. But somebody personal? I don’t know…” Sehun frowns in thought.

“Any past relationships that ended badly?”

Jongin eyes Sehun for his answer. Sehun groans when he seems to remember something. 

“Seomin…”

The name rings a faint bell in Jongin’s memory. “Your date at Junmyeon’s party?”

Sehun nods before turning to Kyungsoo. “I flirted and had sex with this model in my company for ages before taking her to Kim Junmyeon’s famous New Year’s party as my date. That was the first time Jongin and I met. After the party, I couldn’t really stand her antics anymore - always demanding special favors and my attention at random - so I pushed her away and told her to focus on her work. Well, that spiraled too, and she began having fits over the clothes and picking fights with the other models. So I fired her before the open house and modeled in her place. I got a few nasty calls and texts from her after that, but I ignored them and eventually they died away. I haven’t heard of her in months, now.”

“How mad was she and how far would she go for a piece of revenge?”

“Mad enough to publish a serious scandal about my company to bring me down.” 

Kyungsoo pulls out his phone and quickly searches the article. “You can see the author’s profile, and their date of membership. ‘ _ Fashion5Ever’  _ They joined in June… does that match up with your timeline?”

“Pretty well, yes. 5 was her favorite number because of Chanel. I can’t even smell that perfume anymore without gagging.”

Kyungsoo leans back in his seat again, looking every part the smart detective as he sips at his dark coffee. 

“Well then. We now have evidence and a profile to draw of our enemy.”

Jongin turns to Sehun with concern. “Your exes are wild. How come you never told me about all of this?”

“What would it have mattered before? She was just annoying and clingy for a while, and then she stopped. I figured you hadn’t been hurt, so everything was fine.”

“Crazy exes should never be ignored.”

“Yeah, now that’s a lesson learned.” Sehun mutters, shaking his head. He then frowns. “Wait, what about you and Krystal?”

“I told her everything, and she was totally fine with it. She already had a date lined up anyway, so it was convenient for her. She thinks we’re good together.”

Sehun smiles and it takes every ounce of restraint in Jongin’s being not to lean over and kiss him. It looks like Sehun is resisting too, with the way his gaze lingers on his lips and his finger brushes dangerously close again. Thank goodness Kyungsoo is impatient.

“Maybe start by not staring at each other like you haven’t eaten in a week in the middle of a coffee shop. I mean, it’ll make my job easier if you two expose yourselves, I guess, but I worked hard to prove your relationship so that satisfaction is already reserved.”

Jongin turns his gaze with a blush. Kyungsoo is staring at him with a smile. “It’s cute, though.”

Sehun clears his throat. “So, now that we know who it is, what’s the best way to get proof against her false accusations?”

“I’d say you have to go to Busan and take pictures of the workers’ environment and maybe interview a couple for details on the flu and expose the true quality of your clothes. Lawsuits are suckers for full transparency.”

“Does it have to be us personally?”

Kyungsoo drums his fingers on the table. “Well… I don’t have a scheduled story to do at the moment, so maybe I could consider this as a business trip and go there to interview for you. However, it may not be as strong as opposed to if you had gone yourselves.”

“True… Maybe the three of us could go?”

Kyungsoo raises a brow and grins at Jongin. “That could work.”

Sehun slides a hand to curl at the back of Jongin’s neck, eyes narrowed at Kyungsoo. His fingers massage Jongin’s neck with a possessive force that stabs electricity down his back, for it’s a narrowly public move, and it’s too soon to play with fire like this.

Kyungsoo smiles even wider. Jongin squirms in his seat as he tries to pick up the topic at hand again, gently pulling Sehun’s hand off his neck for the sake of secrecy.

“I’m free next weekend. It’ll only take a day or two right? We can either drive or fly down to save time and have it done in a day. Kyungsoo can take care of recording down the whole thing while we ask around for proof and maybe if someone saw Seomin break in. Sound good?”

“Perfect.” Kyungsoo’s gaze roam yet again on Jongin’s figure, but Jongin catches his eyes darting to Sehun with peculiar mischief. He’s only trying to rile up Sehun, and by the hard grip on his hand, it seems to be working.

“Thought you were as straight as an arrow.” Sehun suddenly snaps. 

“What the fuck Sehun can you relax for a second.” he hisses. Sehun finally faces him and his expression falls. Jongin places three chaste kisses on the pale knuckles before letting Sehun’s hand alone on the table.

Kyungsoo laughs. “Believe me, I am. It’s just funny to see you get all riled up. Jealousy is a dangerous barrier.”

“It’s easier to pass by without people to provoke it.” Jongin finds it hard to keep the clipped tone out of his voice and Kyungsoo raises a brow.

“It’s bound to happen, though. With both of your striking looks, people are obviously going to want to interfere.”

“Thanks for the therapy session, but we’re straying from the main problem here.” Sehun’s voice is thinly leveled. “I guess we’ve all agreed that next weekend can work for a trip to Busan. Any other problems until then can be solved by text or call or email. I’ll tweet something about it tonight and so will Jongin. The scandal has popped up several times in the streets already, so we need to act fast. Kyungsoo, you can start by talking with your office about it, just briefly enough to get their accord on this story and maybe their support. Does that sounds good?”

Jongin nods. “Sounds like a plan.”

Kyungsoo seems thoughtful. “You really do make an excellent CEO.”

“Thank you.” Sehun inclines his head lightly, everso the cold prince warm to Jongin’s touch. 

Kyungsoo nods. “It sounds well thought out. I hope it all works out for your sake.” He takes a last sip of his coffee before setting it down and making a move for his wallet. 

“I’ll pay.” Sehun makes a gesture with his hand. Kyungsoo frowns. “How about letting me pay for my 3000 won coffee and instead paying my price for the article later and the flight to Busan.”

Sehun smirks. “You’re a smart man, Mr. Do. Article and flight it is then.”

“Thank you. I guess I’ll see you two at Incheon airport next week then. I’ll let you know what the office thinks as well, if you like.”

“That would be great.” Jongin smiles and stands to shake Kyungsoo’s hand. “Thank you so much, really. You’re the best around.”

Kyungsoo smiles back, and it really is startlingly adorable for a second. “No problem. I’ve been waiting to see this day for too long anyways, even if I found out in a peculiar way.”

Sehun follows suit and Jongin is proud to see the faintest shadow of a grin on his lips as he shakes kyungsoo’s hand. “Glad to have satisfied and proved our trust to you. Thank you for helping us out.”

“Pleasure. I’ll be seeing you two next week then.” Kyungsoo bows as he leaves, bills in hand to pay the waitress before disappearing down the corner street.

Sehun sighs as they sit back down next to each other, his hand resting on Jongin’s thigh. “Thank god that worked out.”

“Is that a thank you I hear?” Jongin brings his coffee to his lips. Sehun smiles beside him. 

“You know the only way I can properly thank you is forbidden for us in public.”

“Shame you can’t use your mouth for other things than kissing me.”

“I know, it’s kind of a bad habit. Too bad I’m not really in a hurry to break it yet.” Sehun’s hand travels dangerously north of Jongin’s thigh but Jongin doesn’t flinch. 

“Clearly.”

“Why don’t we go somewhere I can thank you as much as you like?”

“That might just be the best idea you’ve come up all day.”  Jongin knocks back the rest of his coffee and starts to stand. Sehun follows suit, chuckling. 

“You seem to have forgotten Kyungsoo’s complement earlier.”

“And you seem to have forgotten that you’re supposed to hate Kyungsoo.”

“You weren’t supposed to give me any kisses either.” Sehun murmurs before turning to pay the waitress and leave a generous tip for secrecy. She thanks them and waves them off with a smile. Jongin opens the door for both of them.

“We wouldn’t have gotten out of their successfully if I didn’t. It was purely strategic.”

“You just might regret that strategy in fifteen minutes.”

“Oh dear, I hope I don’t get punished.” Jongin hums, lightly tapping Sehun’s ass before he steps into his car. 

Sehun grins, “Your choice this time. I’ll follow.”

“Keep your eyes on me.” 

“I never look anywhere else.” Sehun says over his shoulder as he strides to his own car not too far behind.

.-.-.-.-.-.

After five minutes of patiently waiting inside his living room, Jongin’s doorbell rings for an “unexpected” visitor. 

“Hello, how may I help you?” Jongin smiles at Sehun who just arrived after following Jongin around Seoul. 

“I’m looking for a certain Kim Jongin? Would you happen to know him by any chance? Tall, tanned, wearing jeans that look too good to be true?” Sehun’s eyes appreciatively roams his figure before pulling a devilish grin. “He doesn’t seem to be here. I guess I’ll have to go look somewhere else.” He starts to turn away but Jongin yanks him inside, shutting the door and pushing him against the wall. 

He whispers lowly in his ear, “Act like I’m not your best dream under your hands. You’d crumble without this tanned sexy ass.” Sehun’s hands have already slipped into Jongin’s back pockets.

“Baby kiss me then.” Sehun breathes into his neck, kneading his muscles like a sculptor. Jongin grins and pushes away completely before Sehun can blink.

“Nah. Not really in the mood right now. We’re supposed to be tweeting aren’t we? Something about business.”

“Rings a bell, but not enough. I have more pressing matters to,” Sehun pulls Jongin’s back against his chest, arm firmly caging him in, “handle.” His hand snakes up Jongin’s shirt as he breathes into his ear, “Such as not getting my kiss yet.”

“If you’re thirsty, I can ask Soonyong to get you some water. I know the heat is unbearable.” Jongin leans into his chest anyways.

“Jongin-” Sehun whines like a child again and Jongin rolls his eyes with a smile.

“Come on, I’m serious about getting our side of the deal done. It’s just a quick tweet and then we can have all the fun we want.” Jongin nuzzles into Sehun’s neck before gently pulling them to the couch. He seats Sehun on the opposite side for good measure, but the stubborn CEO pulls him into his lap anyway as he takes out his phone. 

“Fine. But what am I supposed to tweet again?”

“The people want a reaction to the scandal. So you tweet your disgust over it and say explicitly that you’ll take legal action. After that, we wait a while and I can either reply or tweet my own thing about how it’s disgusting and how I fully support you. But it has to stay still professional and cold.”

“But you’re so cute with me Jonginnie.” Sehun cooes, pecking his cheek. 

“Shut up.” Jongin pushes him away with a smile. “Business. Twitter. Now.”

Sehun sighs but finally opens up the blue app. They argue over the right words to use before finally settling on : 

**_“Writing fake news to attack a prospering company is petty and weak. If you want attention, my lawyers are more than ready to deliver.”_ **

Jongin has the pleasure of pressing the tweet button and running towards the kitchen to suggest yet another diversion of food, but Sehun’s long arms quickly catch up to him and he’s being carried upstairs before he knows it, laughing in his arms as he fakes escape.

“You’re a real brat, you know.” Sehun huffs, tossing Jongin on the bed. “Fucking heavy too.” 

Jongin sticks out his tongue. Sehun climbs next to him, already tired from the haul up the stairs. 

“Can’t I get a kiss?” Sehun whines. 

“Not until you’ve paid for a new table and the rent. And apologised.”

“You’re going to be the death of me.” 

“That doesn’t sound like a sorry.”

“I bet you don’t even remember what I’m supposed to apologise for.”

“True. But still.”

“Jongin-” Sehun starts to fake cry again but Jongin cuts him off with his lips. Sehun kisses back eagerly, like a satisfied cat. Jongin really could never hold an entire day next to Sehun without a kiss. Looks like it’s not really a secret, seeing as how Sehun chuckles when they break apart. 

“Told you you can’t resist me.”

Jongin hums and kisses him again. “I know. You’re hot when you’re riled up.” 

“I’m always hot.”

“Damn true.” Jongin thinks they’re talking too much so he silences both of them with more kissing. Sehun doesn’t complain, really.

Maybe it’s ten minutes, maybe it’s ten hours, but they finally go back downstairs when their lips are numb and hands tired, to finalize Jongin’s side of the tweeting. 

“Okay so you have to show disgust and support for me while pretending to be cold and professional.” Sehun reminds over his shoulder as Jongin opens the app.

“Someone’s been a good listener.” 

“I have a good teacher.” Sehun pecks his nose. They spend a while again debating over the chosen words ;

**_“High fashion values quality treatment for quality clothes more than any other sector. To attack that principle is a dangerous scratch at all our hard work. I fully support all legal action with Nohant to defend these values.”_ **

“I always thought Kibum was the social media wizard in the office.” Sehun teases.

“Well thank god I can remember a few basics like pressing this thing.” Jongin presses the blue tweet button. “But you should check your tweet and the comments. Mine won’t be too long to blow up either.”

Sehun fishes out his phone and scrolls to his notifications on the app. “Woah, There are already more likes and comments than usual… A lot are on my side, and others are yelling for proof instead of money. Not my fault that you’re broke, bitch.”

Jongin laughs and leans on his shoulder to read the comments. “Oh man, they seem pissed. I would have never guessed how stupid Seoul was.”

“There’ll be reporters knocking on my door soon enough too, now that I’ve spoken of legal action.”

“Wait, you’ve already talked to your lawyer about this right?”

“I called them right after you about it. It’ll be expensive if the blogger does decide to follow through with it, but hopefully they won’t. It’s a lost cause. Especially if it really is Seomin.”

“You think she’s even more mad now?”

“I sure hope so. She’s easy to rile up.”

“What will you do if you see her knocking at your front door, affirming she’ll follow through?”

“Send her right back home or give her some money for a job. She’ll despise me.”

“Daredevil.” Jongin kisses his neck. Sehun hums and threads his fingers through Jongin’s hair. 

“And you’re my little demon.” 

“I like how that sounds.” Jongin nuzzles into Sehun’s chest. 

“Thank god we’re not in the same office, we’d never get anything done.” Sehun laughs, pulling Jongin closer in a hug.

“True. It makes these moments so much better.” 

Sehun rubs circles on his stomach, eyes closed as he rests on his neck. “You’re precious to me Jongin. Thank you for standing by my side for this.” Sehun pulls him in for a slow kiss, every touch coated in love and gratitude.

“Always. Plus, it really could attack my company too.”

“True. Do you want to check your notifications?” 

Jongin nods and Sehun lets him maneuver enough to retrieve his phone before settling back into his lap. Jongin bursts out laughing. “This is too funny oh my gosh. Look how everybody is shocked to see me offering support for my enemy. It might be harder to come out now though, since they clearly still think we hate each other.”

“Well now they sure don’t. They’re maybe confused, but it’s clear that we don’t have anything against each other.”

“Hope so. I can’t wait for the day when I can kiss you in front of the runway without a care in the world.” Jongin hums into his neck. 

“That sounds like a dream.” Sehun closes his eyes and tips his head back.

“Only a couple more months.” Jongin whispers, pressing kisses on Sehun’s lips. 

Sehun hums sweet vibrations against his lips. They break apart after a while, idling together in silence. 

“So we don’t tweet anything else?” Sehun asks.

“Not now, no. We can post something when we’re in Busan, though. Show that we are getting evidence.”

“Or maybe the media will follow us and the can do the work for us.”

“Nah, that shows that we let the media have more influence than us. We have to take the first steps here and show that we’re not letting it go.”

“Such a dominant leader in the office, but such a sweet kitten for me.” Sehun smiles down at him, putting a finger underneath Jongin’s chin. Jongin smirks and swoops down to suck obscenely on it for show. Sehun’s eyes go wide, somewhere blurred between surprise and lust. Jongin then opens his mouth and lets his tongue hang out in a deceptively innocent manner. Sehun shakes his head with a smile and retreats his finger, dragging it across Jongin’s arched neck. 

“Save the show for another night. I have to be back at the office at noon, and you deserve only the best of time.” There’s that low tone in his voice saturated with promising need that rolls off his tongue and draws lines on Jongin’s skin with aching cold. Jongin hums. “You spoil me, you know.”

“Anything for you.” 

Jongin shivers into the kiss that Sehun indulges him in. His hands pull him closer, warm on his back, firm chest promising underneath starched clothes. Jongin is lost, lost, lost in the time spent with Sehun’s touch, his tongue, his hands, his soft breath, shudders kneading down his spine. Then the clock strikes noon and they’re torn apart yet again, their fabric of carefully stitched intimacy frayed at the edges, silk threads weaving through whispered goodbyes, coaxing their closed lashes in yet another promise to keep warm for the next time summer night lifts its veil of dark light with fleeting kisses.

~~~~~


	10. Suit and Tie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Business, numbers, scandals - side by side

Three days after their meeting, reporters are already blowing up Jongin’s phone and Sehun’s front door so much so that Jongin almost throws his phone out the window when it rings for the upteenth time that day. Of course, the nickname on the screen stops him.

“Thank god it’s you. I was going to have to buy a new phone.”

_**“I know, I’m debating on moving. I can’t believe how much this scandal has blown up. Even my fucking investors are scrambling to my office to accuse me of not respecting guidelines. Needless to say, I’m currently three investors short since I tend to insult people when I’m mad.”** _

“I can’t have anybody in my office for fear of firing them. How are you going to find new investors?”

_**“They’ll come crawling back after Nohant only grows more after this. Any publicity is good publicity. This hypes me up even more for fashion week - even if my designers are panicking about the mob of reporters outside.”** _

“Yeah, I guess I’ll have to watch out for my prime spot at fashion week if this continues.” 

Sehun laughs on the other end. _**“At New year’s I would have thrown a party if Nohant got a first spot in Seoul fashion week. Now I’d throw a party to see you on the runway.”**_

“You know you prefer me as your personal model more than anything.”

_**“Too true… I count on putting that hotel room in Busan to good use, you know.”** _

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” 

Sehun hums. _**“See you at the airport, then.”**_

“See you then.” Jongin sighs before hanging up. His secretary is waiting patiently outside his door, her mousy frame a mere shadow on the wall. Jongin silently panics on whether the walls are soundproof or not, before he beckons her to come in. After she informs him and leaves him to deal with three different sector problems, it’s Krystal who saunters into his office in her admittedly too-short-for-business outfit with a wide grin on her lips, closing the door behind her. 

They’ve done this plenty of times - and it usually ends with an office smelling strangely of recent sex and Krystal’s torn perfume on Jongin’s clothes. This time, however, Jongin stays perfectly seated as the model bounces over with preppy step. She respects, however, a certain level of secrecy by whispering;

“So, backing your boyfriend on twitter? That’s so cute, you guys are too obvious, I swear."

Jongin really can’t help the smile that dawns his lips. “I really hope it’s obvious, I want to at least be able to kiss him one day without worrying about everything.”

“Yeah. But how exactly are you going to back him up?”

“Money and media. We’re also going to Busan this weekend to collect anti-evidence against the blogger’s case so that she’ll hopefully be too scared to follow out with the lawsuit.”

“Wait, ‘she’ ?” 

“We think it could be Sehun’s ex-fling and model, Seomin. She was his date at the New Year’s party.”

“Oh god what a bitch. That’s definitely her.”

“We’re not sure yet, but chances are pretty high, yeah.”

“Well looks like you two are all set to rule the industry already.”

“I sure hope so. I was also thinking if you could help out too; just send me a couple of your idol contacts and I can get them to model some mixed outfits of Nohant and Juun J. to support and represent our ‘team’.”

Krystal’s eyes widen. “Wow that’s actually really cool. I can do that right now.” She pulls out her phone and starts quickly scrolling through her long list of contacts. “What do you prefer; dancers, singers, rappers, musicians?”

“Dancers. They’re the only ones who know how to pose, master their bodies and positions and gaze.”

“You’re so biased. Let me add in at least one of each to be fair.”

“No rappers. They don’t have near enough class to wear high fashion like Juun J. Maybe Nohant, but we’re looking for a mix here.”

“Fine. You’ll have the best idol dancers, vocalists and musicians knocking at your door soon enough, then. Have you told Sehun about this yet?”

“Not really. I came up with it on the spot. But it’ll be a good way to occupy the media while we’re in Busan.”

“Always the creative genius.” Krystal grins as she leans across to ruffle his hair. He smiles and swats her hand away. 

“How’s Mingyu?”

"Adorable and hot. He almost got a little jealous when you commented on my picture - thanks for that, by the way it was cute. But I'm afraid it made some people think we're still dating..."

"Sorry, I thought I'd comment to make sure it was clear that we left eachother on good terms more than anything else. And I got to give you a jealous Mingyu, I'd say that deserves a thank you."

“I think Junhui would be much more fun for hot, jealous sex in that leather jacket and jeans... but hell Mingyu knows how to use his hands like a damn god."

“Oh god, just tell me it had nothing to do with your work clothes.”

She smirks and moves her hips. “This is his favorite outfit.”

“You’re always too eager to share your sex life with me.”

“You know me too well now, there’s not much to hide now, is there.”

“I guess not.”

“I really liked our relationship thing. It was so easy and carefree. Mingyu is leaning more towards the committed boyfriend-girlfriend side. Not that I mind, really, it’s sweet. But I haven’t had a dedicated relationship in years, and so I’m afraid of messing things up.”

Jongin hums. “Just go with what makes you happy, and I know that you won’t do anything that makes you stressed or guilty. You’re strong, Krystal. You know when to put your foot down and you know what you like, so really, you don’t need to worry about it. Maybe just make sure that he knows that part of you first to avoid some dramatic heartbreak.”

She smiles. “Thanks, Jonginnie. What about you, though? You’re pretty much in the same boat as me; long lost relationship experiences…”

“Well, first of all, Sehun and I have had a kind of buildup throughout several months of mutual interest and a common game to play. He’s hot, stubborn, possessive at times, but we trust each other and keep each other happy and loved. So I’d say we’ve got a couple steady bases that will hopefully build up in the future.”

Krystal is gazing at him starry-eyed. “I’m actually convinced that you two are soulmates.”

Jongin chuckles. “If not soulmates then I hope at least something that lasts a very long time.” 

“I’m positive it will - you two have already been through so much with each other’s support. I really wish you the best, you know.”

“Thank you Krystal.” Jongin smiles at her and she waves him goodbye, saying that she needs to actually get back to work. She does demand updates on the Busan trip which Jongin reassures her by saying he’ll send daily updates in return for the idol contacts. 

________

The rest of the week is nothing but an agonizingly slow countdown until the Incheon airport meetup. Krystal sends him a complete list of about 30 competent idols to advertise his and Sehun’s brand for a while. Sehun had agreed with the idea over the phone with great fervor, however sorry that he couldn’t find too much time to organize it all. Jongin reassured him, saying that he could easily write out a message. 

Jongin types out a message during his coffee break, copy and pasted thirty times with personal variations here and there for emotional appeal. He offers to endorse them with a certain amount of money for each public outfit they wear consisting of both Juun J and Nohant’s clothing pieces. It’s an offer that hardly lets itself be overlooked, and Jonin is confident that it’ll get a good enough of a response to distract the media from following them to Busan.

Among the long list, there’s Jongin and Sehun’s mutual friend, Park Chanyeol. Needless to say, Jongin disregards the copy and paste in favor of typing a far more friendlier and hopeful email, even proposing a coffee outing sometime. 

He presses send and leans back in his chair with a sigh, another dozen tasks on his list unchecked, each seeming always more strenuous than the last, each second straining and finally slipping into Friday’s airport rendez-vous.

________________

Incheon airport resembles a diamond covered in ants and dirt due to the mob of fans and reporters following Sehun, Jongin and Kyungsoo all the way to their security line. Sehun had insisted on flying private, but the jet was nonetheless in the public airport, forcing them to endure the endless prying eyes and blinding cameras. Kyungsoo almost seemed like an innocent child in the middle of the two fashion entrepreneurs, lost as he found himself subjected to the other side of the cameras and forceful questions. 

Finally past security, the trio flashes into the private lounge area as soon as they can, waiting only fifteen minutes before boarding the private jet. Kyungsoo is quiet but clearly observant, large doe eyes darting around the inside of the obscenely luxurious plane. The flight lasts perhaps an hour with little other complications as they land in a quiet place an hour or so from their factories. 

Jongin had arranged for a car to bring them to a hotel since Sehun took care of the flight. It’s still early morning when they arrive, so they decide on a quick breakfast before heading to the factories. Sehun sticks to his bare model diet, despite Jongin’s frown and discreet nudging towards a second plate of eggs. Kyungsoo doesn’t comment on any of it - the price, the worries, the odd camera fan clicks here and there - merely observes and eats his muffin with a curious expression. 

Jongin sometimes likes looking at the small reporter; the way he straightens himself slightly whenever one of the two spoke to him, or the way he rests his hands in his lap as his eyes scour the room for reporting details. Jongin notices how he hasn’t written anything down yet. Once, he asks if Kyungsoo was recording everything instead of writing. The reporter merely shrugs, saying there was nothing important to record yet. Jongin nods and Sehun checks his watch, announcing that they’re expected at Nohant’s main production office in thirty minutes. 

Their bags have been placed at the hotel already, so they’re soon off in a plain rented car. Kyungsoo’s eyebrows raise when he sees the simple Toyota pull up in front, but gets in when Jongin chuckles at his surprise, explaining how they weren’t going to try too hard for this weekend. 

The drive is peaceful, whizzing through the trickle of peripheral city towns and deserted landscapes, a stifling industrial air clinging to their silver throats and ringed fingers. Jongin wipes some dust off Sehun’s shoulder as they step out, quickly separating as the director greets them. He bows the lowest to Sehun, Jongin, then Kyungsoo. 

“Mr. Oh, it’s such an honor to have you here in times like these. We’re so proud to have a headstrong leader such as yourself to care for his employees. Thank you very much.” 

“It’s quite alright. Thank you for respecting my trust in you and for your workers the same. I’d like to introduce Mr. Kim Jongin, head and founder of Juun J. fashion, and Mr. Do Kyungsoo, journalist for the Joongang Ilbo.”

The director bows low to Jongin, but seems hesitant to do so for Kyungsoo.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kim. Your company is quite close to ours… But we don’t usually allow journalists inside -”

“I’m afraid this isn’t your call, Mr. Song. I am your superior and these are my chosen guests who are here to help us defend your production. Now, I suggest you start by showing us the area, and Kyungsoo here will take pictures and record interviews with the workers.”

The director seems offended for the slightest millisecond before remembering his rank and quickly bowing low to Kyungsoo and Sehun, murmuring apologies. Sehun patiently remains silent and waits for him to stand and start showing them the first textile building with a shaken voice. Kyungsoo grins. “For a second, I thought you were going to leave me here.”

“Well we wouldn’t have any trusted media source if we didn’t. You’re important, you know.”

“I hope so, since you two are paying for everything here. Thank you for that, by the way.”

Jongin smiles and shakes his head. “It’s the least we can do. Smart journalists are hard to come by, and we definitely need you on our side.”

Kyungsoo gifts Jongin with a shy smile in return and Sehun lightly places his hand on the small of Jongin’s back for a gentle push forwards. Jongin clears his throat and they hold a respectable distance once the director turns back to them with a large grin. Jongin briefly notices Kyungsoo clicking something in his hand.

“Well, this is the main area of the factory; sewing. This is where about fifteen employees fell sick last week. Half have returned and recovered but the rest are still in bed.”

Sehun frowns. “I heard it was only five.”

“It was five from another sector; textile washings and dye, I believe.”

“So if there were any toxic products in the clothes, it would be in that area where there should be more sick.”

The director nods. Sehun sighs. “Good. That’s the first part of it. Would you mind if Kyungsoo took some pictures of the workers and the conditions?” 

Of course, Sehun wasn’t asking for his opinion - more like telling him what the poor journalist was supposed to do. The director nods with a dumb grin, opening his hands to show Kyungsoo the way. Kyungsoo takes it all in stride, thankfully, stepping back to get larger and smaller frames of it all. Kyungsoo then comes over and Sehun bends down slightly to listen to the journalist’s request to go to the washing room instead. Sehun nods and informs Mr. Song of their intentions and they’re quickly led to another smaller room. 

The smell of bleach, sweat and steam clings to their skin, drops of sweat beading on the back of their necks as billows of vapor clouds their view. Jongin waves the cloud away until it clears into a long line of women bent over large vats of hot water, hair pulled back into tight scarves and uniform red faces huffing as they mix in colors, their small hands a hard palette of faded dyes imbedded into worn callouses. 

All the employees seem to be of legal age - the youngest being a boy of 19 years old who hurries by, casting suspicious glances to the groomed Seoul visitors. Sehun catches his arm and politely introduces himself, asking if he would mind if Kyungsoo were to interview him. The boy is rather handsome; sharp eyes, high cheekbones and athletic build to help him carry large loads and seduce the girls closer to his age group. 

He straightens himself, runs a hand through his hair and tucks his hands behind his back, relenting one small nod to Kyungsoo. He’s strangely quiet, but seems very alert and dignified, eyeing Sehun as though he were made of gold. Jongin can’t blame him, really. Kyungsoo thanks him with a soft smile, gently taking him away from the noise to speak with more clarity. 

Sehun and Jongin stay walking between the rows of workers, sometimes asking their own questions here and there about the material and dye. The gradual murmurs of excitement are hard to ignore as they bubble up the women’s lips behind their backs, straightening their aprons and fixing their scarves. One younger girl blushed when Jongin asked her if the pay was good, and if she knew anybody in the Juun J. building not too far away. She nodded and began quickly detailing one of her friend’s jobs there. She had the nerve to ask him where he was from, her strangely pale hands visibly trembling slightly in her apron. 

She gasped a little at his answer and bowed low, but Jongin waved her off with a smile, thanking her for her time before joining Sehun once again in the next aisle over. The CEO was busy asking questions to a grumpy older woman, ignoring her co-worker’s starry eyes and eager answers that weren’t directed to her. Finally, he sighs, stretching a smile as he thanks them. Once he’s at his side, Jongin mutters in his ear;

“Chatting up the older ladies, Sehun? She looks a little rough for you…”

Sehun snorts. “Don’t be jealous, Jongin. She’s worked here for thirteen years, she was the only person I’ll ever get anything true out of here. Maybe Kyungsoo will be more successful. Ah, there he is. That boy really is outnumbered, poor thing.”

“He seems to make the best out if it.” Jongin comments, seeing the 19-year-old make a beeline towards the young girl from Jongin’s conversation, visibly flexing as he asks her if she has another batch of clothes for him to carry. Sehun grins and motions for Kyungsoo to join them. He points out the old lady in particular, as well as a couple other ones at random. Kyungsoo nods and dutifully goes towards them, a warm smile drawn on his lips. The older woman seems to relax as she talks with him - there’s even a coarse smile that scars her chapped lips. Sehun sighs and turns to the manager.

“I need a full report on each and every one of the dyes, and their composition It’s just a list to bring back home, since we’re a public company and we’re supposed to offer full transparency by the end of the year anyways.”

The director nods. “Of course, I’ve already started on some of the policy and commitments terms…”

Jongin frowns. “But wait, if you start looking at illegal substances that you’re supposed to publish in the yearly report anyway, might as well look at everything else about the workers’ health and security.”

“True. Since we’ve only been active for such a short time compared to others, we haven’t been able to collect all the data about the workers and their policies. But since we’re here now, we can start looking at that a bit more. Full transparency is highly valued.” Sehun hums in agreement. “I’ll go with Mr. Song here to his office to work on that. Kyungsoo can find his own work to do, I’ll tell him where to meet me later. You can come if you like…”

“I think I’m going to go visit my own company’s factory next door - see if they’re having the same problems as you and check up on how things are. I haven’t been in a while.”

Sehun nod and his hand almost looks like it’s going to brush his shoulder before he leaves. It’s too dangerous to even wave goodbye, but it’s a painful walk out the door that Jongin has to suffer without the slightest of Sehun’s touch for comfort. Jongin heaves a sigh once he’s outside, dry air replacing the hot steam from inside. 

The walk to Juun J.’s building is stifling. Jongin thinks even his plain t-shirt is too thick on his skin. He finally recognises one of the buildings and speaks to the security guard for access. 

There’s a separate block for the main office - just a small house that seems to be slightly neater than the shabby dirt-licked walls of the production factory - into which Jongin allows himself inside. It’s actually a direct door into the manager’s office himself - who immediately jumps up and starts bowing at the sight of his utmost boss.

“Mr. Kim! I didn’t realise you would be here so soon! It’s really an honor, and with all the trouble with this flu going around -”

“Yes, I’m sorry if I’m a bit unexpected, but I was with a friend in the factory nearby, so I figured I might as well check up on my own company runnings. How are the employees doing?”

“Well, like the entire city, we’ve been cut short quite a bit. Production has slowed… considerably… but we’re not the only ones, so it shouldn’t put us behind more than anyone else. ”

Jongin nods. “I’m glad to hear so. I also heard there was a break-in.”

“Yes, it was actually pretty strange - some woman we think. She tried to bribe some employees behind the factory, apparently, but she seemed really confused at the whole thing and barely put up a fight when security led her out. She kept asking where Nohant’s building was. She was possibly drunk.”

Jongin’s jaw clenches, then relaxes. So it was Seomin. “Well I’m glad it didn’t cause any more troubles for us. Have you started the yearly report yet?”

The manager opens up a drawer in his desk and slides about fifty pages of printed documents on the table. “This is for the first two quarters of the year. Since the second quarter just ended, I’ve been working on the third for about a month now. But it’s the same as it’s always been, except for maybe these unusually long sick days that we have to manage.”

Jongin nods, a hand sliding over the first page. “Would you mind if I went through all these? My secretary did forward it to me a while back, but I’ve been way too busy at the office to go through it all yet.”

“Of course.” The manager pulls up what seems to be the most comfortable chair in the room for Jongin to sit. As he settles himself and silently reads through the most important part of the Policy & Commitments of the company, the manager drums his fingers on the desk. 

“Sir, there are many companies nearby, and we work with two others in one building, but might I ask exactly which one you visited with your friend?”

If Jongin takes too long to answer, suspicious could arise. He doesn’t even look up from his papers when he answers with a poised voice. “I visited Nohant’s side of the area, with the CEO, Oh Sehun.”

“Oh, he’s here as well?” There’s a pleasant ring to his voice, so Jongin looks up to answer.

“Yes, you might have heard of the fake scandal engulfing his image recently - to do with the flu actually. It’s been accused of toxic chemicals in the dyes, something ridiculous like that. It’s certainly linked to the break-in this factory. We’re here to collect anti-evidence.”

“Rumor always said that Juun J. was in competition with Nohant.”

“I take it you haven’t been on twitter recently, Jongin chuckles, I’ve decided to fully support Nohant in this lawsuit - no company deserves such false accusations. And besides, it was always the rumors that put fire to the competition. After a while, we’ve put differences aside for the better.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jongin sees the manager nod and hide a grin. Jongin continues reading through the reports until dusk falls and his phone is ringing with a text message from the Daredevil himself, telling him to meet him in the middle point between the two factories. Jongin wishes the quiet manager goodbye, thanking him for the reports and encouragements for the the fashion week. Jongin even slips in the promise of paying him a bonus for taking care of the workers and getting them back as soon as possible.

The sunset is a ball of fire quivering in the tar-stained clouds. Jongin walks sometimes on the pavement, sometimes in the dead dust that lingers on the side. Sehun is waiting for him on the side of the empty road. All the workers will be done soon, some retreating to the single domortires, others fleeing home to their families. Sehun smiles a little as Jongin gets closer, warm creases lining the corners of his slanted eyes. 

He seems soft in the evening glow, pale skin against the dark clothes and fiery sky as he opens the back door for Jongin. Kyungsoo starts to clamber out of the prestiged shotgun seat, but Jongin reassures him with a laugh. Sehun’s hand only lingers to run softly through Jongin’s hair and neck before he closes the door and walks back around to settle in the driver’s seat. Jongin asks them if they got any new information, and Sehun tells him how they decided to talk about it over dinner instead of the stuffy car. 

Dinner is held shortly after in a small restaurant just on the outskirts of Busan’s lively city. There’s a private view on the sea from their table. Jongin closes his eyes for a minute to breathe the ocean air. Soft music weaves its way along his neck, a salted song lapping at his feet, grains of sand curling underneath his fingers. He always loved the sea. He hadn’t even noticed the waiter already jotting down their ordered drinks, leaving briskly before Jongin even said anything. Sehun notices his gaping mouth and laughs. 

“I ordered a drink for you; you seemed a bit dazed.” 

Jongin sighs in relief. “Thanks.” 

Sehun’s hand lightly squeezes his thigh and Jongin relaxes all too easily into the slight touch. Kyungsoo clears his throat and taps on his notebook.

“So, here are a couple interviews that had the most interesting things.”

The two CEOs collect themselves and gesture for him to continue.

“That old lady was actually pretty useless. Don’t be mad, Sehun. she told me about all the worst parts of the job, but I mean, we’re here to get evidence that there aren’t any toxic products in the clothes and that the sickness going around is just a coincidence - not criticize the low pay and the food.”

“She said the pay was low? I promised her a fucking raise if she answered me, how did you-”

“She offered me cookies after work.”

Jongin chuckles. “Well then, at least somebody got to her, even if it was maybe useless. But who were the most interesting then?”

“This younger woman next to her has two children who went to school and both came back sick about three weeks ago. Apparently, the flu was going around the school first, before spreading to the parents and, consequently, the factories. Some kind of stomach bug - maybe to do with the fish in their plates after the recent oil spill not far from Shanghai’s port.” 

“Kyungsoo you’re a fucking genius.” Sehun sighs as the waiter brings them their drinks, “You deserve a second glass of wine after this, really.”

Kyungsoo thanks the waiter and takes a sip of his glass. “It’s my job.”

“Is that the main thing you could get from all those workers?”

“Well yeah, since that’s pretty much the limits of their knowledge when it comes to company scandals or whatever. Sehun came up with the list of chemical composants, however.”

Sehun nods. “We finally got every color and their composants, and did a run-through their provenance and all that. Not one breaks the policy of illegal substances.”

Kyungsoo turns to Jongin. “I know you only went to your company’s side for business reasons, but did you find out anything about the break-in?”

“My manager said it wasn’t really important - she apparently tried to bribe some of the workers to pose behind the building for some pictures - he didn’t say whether she got some or not. He said she seemed very confused when security led her out… I think the one or two pictures posted on that blog were of my company actually, since your side didn’t mention anything of a break-in.”

“That would make sense.” Kyungsoo traces the rim of his glass with a finger.

Sehun grins, “Well then, gentlemen, I think we just successfully crushed Seomin’s revenge.”

Jongin raises his glass, “Now I say that definitely deserves a toast.”

They clink their glasses with relieved smiles, holding one another’s gaze as they take a long sip, laughing lightly afterwards. It’s an easy weight that’s lifted off their shoulders, knowing fully now that nobody has the slightest chance of stepping up against them. They’re the kings of the world, Jongin thinks, fruity alcohol skittering along his throat, Sehun’s fingers tracing circles just at the hem of his shirt. Kyungsoo is their anchor to watch their hands more often than not - his eyes crinkling up softly at the corners as he eyes the pair’s discreetly blatant flirting behind his glass. 

They make pleasant chatter throughout the meal as well. The duck meat melts into Jongin’s mouth with the savory rice and thick sauce coating his taste-buds in a sort of famished ecstasy. The alternation between rounds of cocktails and food quickly dissolves Jongin into a warm firefly, candle light and ocean breeze softening his lips into a smile. Sehun and Kyungsoo are now talking like old friends through sips of wine. Jongin briefly hears something about Kyungsoo’s childhood stories - actually a funny anecdote to which he only tunes in for the punchline. But the two are laughing heartily, and so Jongin laughs as well, happiness bubbling in his smile. 

Kyungsoo is looking at him again with a relaxed expression. It’s probably the wine coloring his cheeks in that slightly rosy flush when he tells Jongin he’s beautiful, and Jongin is too surprised to even blush. Even Sehun laughs, running a hand through Jongin’s hair. “He is, isn’t he?”

It’s nothing but a soft murmur of admiration but it takes Jongin’s entire willpower not to merely lean onto Sehun’s shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of his neck which he knows is a heaven of that sharp cologne.

He closes his eyes and leans his head back. Jongin hears Kyungsoo chuckle and mutter something to Sehun, and the touch is lingering, longer, longer, then gone. 

____

They decide on ordering dessert at the hotel instead. Or, at least, that’s what Sehun announces as he hands the waiter his credit card without even gifting a glance at the bill. Jongin feels a little tipsy as they walk on the streets after - he’ll admit - giggling at the way the soft sea breeze mingles on his tongue with the lingering fruit cocktails. 

“Kyungsoo, can you steady him for a bit? I can’t really do much out here…” Sehun’s voice sounds strained and Jongin really wants to hug him, but there are small hands balancing his waist before he can trip. 

“I’m fine, oh my gosh, I’m not a drunk teenager yet.” Jongin huffs, almost biting his tongue as he speaks. Kyungsoo’s honey-chuckles seem to come from meters below Jongin. He turns his head a little, and indeed, the shorter journalist is almost leven-height with his chin, his side warm and hands steady on Jongin’s waist. He can barely make out a bright smile in the dim lamp passings.

“That’s okay, Jongin. Sehun still loves you.”

“You’re too loud.” Sehun hisses next to him, but Jongin can hear the smile in his voice. It’s like this perhaps all the way to the hotel - Kyungsoo’s abnormally cheerful laughter thrilling Jongin’s mind with gold, Sehun’s deep chuckle ghosting on his skin with liquid rubies. 

Once the two boyfriends are alone, Jongin doesn’t register much about the decor of the hotel room, he’ll admit - it’s a little hard to do so with Sehun bringing spoons of sweet iced cake to his merciful tongue, murmuring teasing promises in his ear. One hand traces the slash of skin above his belt. Sehun tastes like candy and alcohol. The only indication that he’s also intoxicated with one too many cocktails is the fumbling curses when he struggles with Jongin’s pants. 

Jongin finds half a mind to laugh before he’s being desperately kissed, swallowed, loved, fucked with every inch of the dark CEO, moaning praises and love-bites ornating his skin, gripping trembling thighs and tensed sides - the slow, steady slide consuming his entire sense and coating his vision and skin in white pleasure. 

Sehun makes love to him with drunken lust, like they’ve done as often as they can - but this time, the soft kisses and warm hugs are some kind of thank you for taking him in every single time, for flying across the country together, for standing by his side, for his promising hand on his back to steady him. And that night, he does say it. 

Sehun always looks somewhat dazed and happy after sex - smile lopsided and hearts shining in his eyes. Jongin always know they’re only mirrors for his own expression too.

“Thank you, Jongin. Thank you for everything.” 

Jongin kisses his palm.

Sehun traces his neck. His lips still taste like sweet cocktails. “I love you, you know.”

For some, it’s a terrifying word, a black hole spiraling into an unknown. But for Jongin, he’s always known it. One too many drops of alcohol in his system or not, his answer is the most sober one he’ll ever give in his entire life. The words run from his lips like cherry blossoms in the wind. Free. Loved. Secure. 

“I know. I love you too.”

They’ve slept together in many different beds, their sheets always forgotten, but Jongin swears to forever remember this night together; Busan’s distant city lights sparkling like fireflies on the horizon, moonlight sweeping across Sehun’s broad shoulders, the traces of his childish grin peppering itself across his mind. He places Sehun’s hand on his heart. They smile. They kiss. Sehun murmurs the words several times against his lips, and Jongin falls asleep to it like a lullaby, the sentence already inked across sand-strewn dreams.


	11. Scattered Files

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lawyers,  
> Dangerous Questions,  
> Top Jongin.

Seoul greets them with a hive of aggressive reporters shoving microphones in their faces, pushing frantic fans away to snatch at a piece of their pristine flesh, their ugly squawking and curled beaks snapping questions at them.

“Mr. Oh! Are you just going to rely on money to solve your problems?”

“What was the purpose of this trip to Busan? What do you have to say to the hundreds of your fans?”

Surprisingly enough, Sehun actually does answer the aggressive reporter’s demand with simple calm. “That they should focus on dressing with my clothes instead of doubting my values.”

There’s a brief murmur of awe throughout the crowd before another journalist tries the same with Jongin.

“Mr. Kim! Why are you supporting your rival company?”

“I stand for the truth that the media will never show, and no apparent competition should shadow that.”

Another quick silence and an uproar. They keep walking, determined now to escape the thickening mob, but poor Kyungsoo also gets targeted.

“Do Kyungsoo, what is a journalist doing so close to fashion millionaires?”

Sehun and Jongin are ready to snap at the stranger, but Kyungsoo turns to the journalist with a simply sadistic smile as he answers; “Getting paid for an article more than you could ever beg for.”

Jongin hides a laugh behind a cough, but Sehun is grinning as he gently pulls Kyungsoo away from an agitated microphone. They manage to each get into the sleek sports car waiting for them outside safe and sound. Once they’re pulling away, the chauffeur having been told the destination of Sehun’s lawyer’s office, Jongin turns to clap Kyungsoo on the back, laughing.

“Man that was great. You’re already better at answering things than we are.”

Kyungsoo shrugs. “I know what they want to hear, but I’ll amit, being on the other end of the microphone is a lot more intense than I thought. You two did well though.”

“Do I hear Kyungsoo giving us credit for our hardships?” Sehun calls out from the front seat.

“You wish.” The journalist replies with a grin.

The drive to the attorney building is surprisingly quick, and before they know it, the trio are being seated in a luxurious office, complimentary tea being served to them by a secretary while they wait for the lawyer.

The lawyer arrives in a full suit, and introduces himself as Park Soojin, thanking Sehun with a warm smile. Once they’re all comfortable and formalities are set, the meeting starts. Sehun does most of the talking; describing their trip, the factory, the reports. He slips in space for Kyungsoo to detail more about the flu and the workers, as well as for Jongin to add on to their confirmed suspicions about the supposedly anonymous blogger. The lawyer listens with calm interest, and sighs once they’re done.

“Well, this is just too easy then. There’s a specific kind of lawsuit for this case; called a Strategic Lawsuit against Public Participation. It’s common for companies to do so when they can prove themselves against a false mediatic accusation. From what I’ve heard here, there’s largely enough evidence to win this case - and if you intimidate the blogger enough, they might just want to do an out of court mediation instead of going through years of trial.  
It’ll be funny when the media sees how everything is really such the opposite of the blog - admittedly written with somewhat convincing facts and numbers. All we have to do now is wait… Maybe answer some press questions outside to let them know what’s really going on and hopefully receive some comeback from the anonymous blogger.”

The three nod in usion. “So for the moment, we just have to wait for them to reveal themselves to settle it all?”

“If you’re confident there’s no way they’re going to go through with a full jury - enormous expenses, and years of trial - then yes, all they have to do is contact their lawyer or me for a meetup to settle things out of court. Basically, they plead guilty and you can demand a written apology as long as the original article as well as a considerable fine.”

Sehun sighs, relieved. “God I hope this really does all work out. Thank you so much.”

The lawyer smiles at them as they each shake hands before showing themselves out. In the hallways, Sehun turns to Kyungsoo, affirming that they won’t say a thing to any other reporters, since it’s his decided privilege to be the only one writing truthful facts about the case. Kyungsoo nods humbly as they step outside, having to silently face only four or five reporters loitering around the building before getting in the car and driving to Kyungsoo’s journalist building at his request.

Once they thank him and see him off, the chauffeur patiently waits for Sehun’s next destination. Sehun turns to look at Jongin with a hopeful glint in his eyes. Jongin smiles, and it’s all Sehun needs to tell his chauffeur to go to his house directly, since it’s simpler that way.

Of course, it’s also convenient for Sehun to undress Jongin in his room in a breathless hurry, since that’s all they’ve ever known is how to go fast, beat the racing clock threatening secrecy, always burning their heels, catching their breath only momentarily before crashing their lips together again and again, Sehun grinding roughly against Jongin, pushed against a wall. Jongin laughs, broken with a moan at Sehun’s famished sucking on his neck.

“We have time, you know.”

“Time has never been as patient as you.”

“Maybe. But it’ll wait for now.” Jongin whispers, tilting a finger underneath Sehun’s chin to make him look up with dark eyes. He hums, tracing Sehun’s lip. The latter leans into the touch, a soft breath of surprise warming his fingertip when Jongin palms him through tight jeans. Jongin leans against the wall, enjoying the sight of Sehun slowly breaking to his touch.

“I could get used to seeing this.”

Sehun kisses up along his jaw, deliciously hard beneath Jongin’s palm. “You want to top, don’t you?”

“I always have,” Jongin confesses, not really daring to look at the latter in the eye, “but I know how you’re uncomfortable when you’re not in control. I like it when you fuck me too.”

“I wouldn’t mind bottoming for you, baby.” Now it’s Sehun’s turn to trace the pleasure growing between Jongin’s thighs. “Think it would be pretty hot if I rode you.”

Jongin bites his lip. “It would. Are you sure?”  
  
Sehun kisses his cheek. “My turn to be your pretty virgin.”

Jongin smirks and brings Sehun by the chin to roughly kiss him. Sehun starts by controlling the kiss, he always does, but he quickly remembers and falls slack, moaning and melting into Jongin’s touch. There’s a rush of power running along his veins at the control he has. And judging by the shiver that betrays Sehun’s body when Jongin pushes him into the bed, he’s not the only one enjoying this. Jongin is almost thrown off balance when he moves to straddle Sehun, attacking his neck with kisses none too lightly as he finally removes Sehun’s jeans and briefs completely.

Sehun gasps at the cold air and hot hand on his member. Jongin squeezes and pumps his length with controlled lust, fingers brushing the hem of Sehun’s shirt. He then removes himself completely. Sehun almost whines but Jongin’s firm tone makes him quiet.

“Off. Make it good.”

Sehun’s eyes widen, and Jongin is almost worried at the briefest flare inside them, but then Sehun bites his lip and sits up, slowly sliding his shirt over his toned body. Jongin grins at the show worthy of a full stripper; cock stark against his stomach as he drags the material over his nipples, gasping for show.

“Quite the showman.”

“I watch the right people” Sehun smirks.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Jongin runs a tongue over his teeth. Sehun is always beautiful naked beneath his fingers. Jongin is still fully clothed as he leans over to thumb hard at Sehun’s leaking tip, swallowing filthy moans with merciless kisses. Sehun curses and tries to grind against his clothes thigh, earning a painful slap on his ass.

“I’ll make you pay for that later.” Sehun snaps into his ear. Jongin licks his neck and squeezes his ass softly. “Guess who’s topping now? Me. But I’ll let you undress me if you want. Touch and you’ll get punished.”

Sehun rolls his eyes and roughly unbuckles Jongin’s belt, now in some more familiar territory. Jongin helps him peel off his jeans, and basks in the kisses that pepper his torso as Sehun slides off his shirt. There’s a hand traveling dangerously south, so Jongin tugs on Sehun’s cock first. Sehun gasps against his nipple.

“You’re a bitch of a bottom.”

Sehun smirks and fists Jongin’s cock with a more practiced dominance. “Then show me what you got, babe.” Sehun breathes lowly, squeezing Jongin’s cock into delirium, grinding against his thigh. Jongin curses and roughly gropes Sehun’s ass before he can falls slack to the pleasurable touch. He pushes Sehun so that he’s lying on his back, surprised but smirking.

Krystal would have already had Jongin’s cock halfway down her pretty throat by this time, but Jongin figures the way Sehun tosses his head back and moans as Jongin presses a quickly lubed finger to his hole is just as good of a view. He figures he can be a generous top.

“Fuck Jongin-”

Sehun gasps when Jongin’s lips slide over his sensitive shaft. He crooks his finger inside Sehun’s wonderfully tight ass and he’s rewarded with a heavy groan.

“You’re so dumb… I should be the one… deepthroating -” He’s cut off with a curse when Jongin swallows around his cock, pulling off to fleck his tongue at the tip and push in a second finger.

“I’m more of the spoiling type.”

Sehun laughs a little, threading his fingers through his hair. “Copycat. Although I’m pretty sure you can blow better than me.”

Jongin chuckles and presses a thumb to Sehun’s slit before sucking hard for a few bobs, grinning around the hard girth at Sehun’s surprisingly loud moans. He then goes up to tug at a nipple with his teeth, still stroking Sehun’s insides with the same two fingers. “Bet I can fuck better too.”

“You wish.”

Jongin harshly jabs in a third finger out of spite, and Sehun clenches his shoulders with a hiss.

“Jerk, I was actually nice on you the first time.”

Jongin hums, sucking lightly on his collarbones. “I know.” He slows his fingers’ pace, steadily working them in now. Sehun relaxes.

“But I’ve got to give you something to remember of my talents.” Jongin bites at the skin and Sehun groans, lifting his hips to grind more against his stomach and ride his fingers. Need quickly builds inside Jongin’s gut, and his fingers stroke faster, licking inside Sehun’s mouth with mixed gasps and groans as he fists Sehun’s length, leaking sweet desire on his palm in the same way he pants “I love you” between breathless kisses and moans.

Jongin can’t count how many fingers Sehun is riding at this point, but everything is tight, hot, wet, fucked and beautiful and white when Jongin apparently hits a starry spot inside that velvet ass and Sehun whines and scratches down his back, groaning his name. Jongin flips them over, finally and dear god the sight of Sehun’s blonde hair tousled, lips flush and cheeks slightly flush, eyes dark nearly robs Jongin of every last breath burning his lungs. Sehun quickly straddles his lap, grinding his ass against Jongin’s member. Sehun’s hand goes to stroke Jongin’s cock with starry eyes.

“It’ll look far better sliding inside you.” Jongin breathes, hands folded behind his head. Sehun raises a brow at him and grins. “Why don’t we see that then.”

Jongin barely has any time to even steady Sehun’s hips as he slides down completely on Jongin’s cock. Jongin feels his entire body go limp at the shock of impossibly tight wet heat that pulses oversensitivity along his stark member. He groans, blinks several times before the stars clear his vision and he sees Sehun breathing through clenched teeth as he grips Jongin’s sides like an anchor. Jongin quickly hold his hips and tries to lift him up a little.

Sehun is almost crying curses and Jongin strokes his sides, resisting every impulse twitching in his muscles to start fucking into him before he’s even ready.

“Hurts huh? Do you want to get off?” Jongin asks, ragged lust seeping ashamedly through his voice. Sehun shakes his head, of course. Jongin keeps him held up a bit, painfully reminded of a hardcore weightlifting session at the gym as his muscles tremble and the incredible heat slowly leaves his cock. He then hears Sehun chuckle, chest shaking slightly as he laughs quietly.

“Why go to the gym when you can lift me, right?”

Jongin exhales in relief, grinning. “Jesus, you fucking scared me. Are you good now?”

“I always was. Just wanted to see you panic.” Sehun smirks before starting to bounce happily on his cock, causing Jongin to gasp and curse. There are more stars of pleasure dotting his vision from the blooming heat inside his gut. Jongin hisses and grabs Sehun’s hips. “This’ll be payback for the table.”

Sehun’s eyes go wide before Jongin lifts him again and slams him into his hips. Sehun curses and almost collapses onto his chest, but Jongin keeps him upright as he keeps thrusting into that wonderful heat, chasing greed and lust more and more as Sehun keens after a particularly deep thrust and Jongin finally flips them over for more power.

Jongin catches strings of prayers and pleas stumbling between Sehun’s moans. He decides to slow down a bit, calm the blur of wild heat, blind lust and pitched curses to focus on the beautiful breaths of “I love you”’s, the sweat gleaming down his long neck, magnificent expressions reacting to each touch. Jongin keeps the angle just right, the pace gentle, his touch soothing over the lines of his lean torso, ridges of bone, cartilage and soft skin.

“You’re such a romantic; I couldn’t be scared of you hurting me even if I tried.” Sehun interrupts his moment with a smile.

“What can I say, I’m an artist.” Jongin kisses his neck, cheek, lips.

“Am I your favorite masterpiece?”

“And so much more.”

“I think your favorite masterpiece deserves a mind-blowing orgasm, then.” Sehun’s hands palm open Jongin’s ass out of teasing habit but Jongin clicks his tongue.

“We both know I never disappoint. And I want those hands stretched above you now.”

Sehun smirks and makes a point in dragging his hands up Jongin’s body as he trails away, twitching with a gasp when Jongin grips his cock, passing a thumb over the slit only once.

“Keep going.” Jongin cocks his head, slowly jacking off Sehun whose hands are now stretched and locked above his head, digging his head back into the pillows, arched neck quivering with need at the slow tease. Jongin takes the opportunity to nip gently at his nipples, collarbones, neck, to whisper into his ear: “Now you’re going to stay like this, let your favorite artist paint you white.” Sehun scoffs and smiles but is quick to relent anyways because soon enough Jongin wants that wild heat again, wants those heavy moans shaking beneath his throat, that delirious pressure building like a wildfire in his gut.

He folds Sehun’s legs up against his chest, locks his heels around his shoulders opening, stretching his lover with a wide grin as he picks up the pace. They’re so close, splitting Sehun open with his cock, consuming desire and heat in the quivering muscles and open kisses, tongues and moans spilling and begging for more, more, more…

It’s fast, filthy, and absolutely beautiful when Sehun arches his back and claws down Jongin’s back, desperately trying to keep up and satisfy, chase Sehun’s lips along with that white paradise burning his skin. It devours his brain and voice with wet moans, tight pleasure pulsing so fucking hard to Sehun whining against his neck, clenching and gasping, stratched, beautiful, biceps flexing hard against the pillows as he’s so pliant just for Jongin…

Jongin’s so close to that blinding love, he has to grip, pleasure Sehun’s cock first, rewarded with a loud gasp resembling a pulled moan in the form of his name for one last flick of his wrist and Sehun’s gone, hand stilling above his head as his jaw drops open. Jongin keeps thrusting like a damn racing car to finish before Sehun’s oversensitivity crashes him, and he’s effectively fucked when Sehun pulls his hair, sucks a hickey on his neck and meets his thrust so perfectly, shaking breath against his lips, that Jongin finally comes clenching Sehun’s shoulders breathing heavily against his chest.

“Goddamn.” Sehun breathes, still holding him, threading his fingers more softly through his hair now when Jongin pulls out, wincing at the sound and Sehun’s funny smile.

“That’s going to be a pain to clean.”

Jongin laughs, a little out of breath. “I know. I’ve had my fair share too, you know.”

“Fair enough.”

Jongin grins and rolls on his side, an arm slung over Sehun’s stomach.

Sehun sighs and pulls him closer. “You’re a good top. Krystal must have had a lot of fun.”

“Definitely fun.”

“I saw that comment on her instagram.”

“She told me it even made Mingyu a little jealous.”

“You’re a good wingman.”

“I’m an even better top and boyfriend, right?”

“And artist.” Sehun grins and kisses his head. Jongin closes his eyes and cuddles closer to that familiar, slim warmth.

“I really hope it’s Seomin who shows up to that mediation. How fucking great would it be to get a written and paid apology from your ex?”

“I’d come skipping out of the building with her throwing knives at my back.”

“Kyungsoo could take pictures.” Jongin laughs.

Sehun chuckles, “It’ll be pretty sweet, especially once we’re publicly together. Double slaps.”

Jongin hums and curls his fingers around the duvet. The public issue. “That too… I mean, we’re already taking a hefty amount of risks to exposure, so I guess it’s good to keep dropping hints to the media about us, but can we really keep doing all these things, and keep denying them to our closer friends? I mean, Kibum has almost called me out so many times, I just don't know if I can keep lying to him and then pop up on TV kissing you the next week; I'd lose all their trust..."

Sehun pulls him closer. "I know... I've been doing the same too, and it is rough. What we need is time. It hasn't even been a full year yet; no wonder we're worried about rough reactions."

Jongin yawns and nods. That orgasm and plane trip seems to have taken a pretty good toll on him. Sehun was speaking sense, though. But Jongin has to laugh a little at the implied solution. "So we should wait longer? You, who was whining about being impatient?"

Sehun shakes his head with a smile. "I know, I know I'm a brat. We always talked about a vague time to do it all, and maybe that was what made me so impatient; because I hated being held in a floating insecurity. I was always thinking it should be the first opportunity to come which we had to take and go public, because that was all I wanted. But now... now I'm just happy when I can be with you, even if it hurts during the weeks when we're alone, it makes all these moments so much more special."

Jongin kisses his neck with a curling warmth inside his chest. "So we'll plan on a moment, more defined so that we can keep a handle on our future, our secret, our companies much better."

"Top CEOs, I'd say." Sehun winks.

"Maybe we could use a collaboration to our advantage; we've already gotten a couple non-official mixes being modeled in the streets, so it would be almost expected if we launch an official one next year." A yawn escapes Jongin's mouth through his business planning.

"Even after sex you're still the serious CEO. Aren't I glad I get to date such a hot, smart man. " Sehun peppers him with kisses and Jongin laughs. 

"Consider yourself lucky."

"I know I am."

"So what do we say... One year?"

Sehun whines but Jongin covers his lips with a finger. "One year, and we won't have to keep panicking about what to say, when to hint, whatever. We're at the top, after all. Be my favorite daredevil for one more year, Sehun."

Sehun purses his lips because he's petty but always relents with a sigh for Jongin. "Alright, alright. So this is our new game?"

"Safer, but darker when we're together." Jongin hums, tracing the lines of Sehun's navel. Sehun shivers and his eyes slip close. 

"Doesn't sound too bad."

Jongin smiles and pulls the duvet over them, sleep gradually pulling him down like a rock too.

"I guess a shower will have to wait after a catnap -" He yawns.

"Sleep tight Jongin. I love you." Sehun mumbles, wrapping him closer with a kiss to his hair.

"I love you too." Jongin's lips brush his neck before he's enveloped in a deep sleep, finally devoid of any angry cameras, cries of betrayal or empty stocks to interrupt Sehun's warm hug, light touch for an hour or two of a peaceful reverie, and the secure promise of one year.


	12. Acquaintances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let Chanyeol pay,  
> We can explain

Monday morning, there’s a fresh magazine waiting, splayed atop Jongin’s office mail. _The Joongang Ilbo_. Jongin sits on his couch to read it thoroughly, impressed with Kyungsoo’s professional work and flawlessly clear style. There are three pictures, Sehun and Jongin standing in front of the factory at a respectable distance, posing for the picture to serve as clarification that Kyungsoo wasn’t a simple paparazzi - one of a woman’s hands mixing the dyes and washing clothes, and a third of Sehun and the manager sharing documents.

Each picture is beautifully shot, the colours as vibrant and sharp as the writing, and professional as the small man himself. Jongin can hear Kyungsoo’s voice rolling off the pages in that deep melody that had so entranced and terrified him in their first meeting.

Kyungsoo explains every event in the exact same order as the scandalous article - a specific choice, making the point of the article even clearer than crystal - the flu, the cause, the reasoning of the dyes, defending Jongin’s protection by linking it to his own company’s break-in. He even quotes Sehun and Jongin’s curt airport answers, certainly done on purpose since it means he got to publish them before any other. Jongin smiles at the detail. The article is wrapped up in a page and a half, the last sentence addressing itself directly to the anonymous blogger to politely contact their lawyer to resolve things.

“Wild stuff huh? I even heard that you were hiring idols to wear Juun J. and Nohant outfits… what’s up with you two lately?”

Jongin closes his eyes for a minute to calm the jump of surprise at Kibum’s always sudden intrusion. The said designer is leaning on the doorframe, eyes narrowed at Jongin.

“I’m going to give you one of those cat bells so I can fucking prepare myself before you pop into my room like some wizard.”

“But then it’s no fun. It’s been five years and you still jump whenever I come in.” Kibum chuckles a bit, stepping inside to lounge comfortably on Jongin’s leather chair. “But you’re not getting away with changing the subject.”

Jongin has to smile, because for once, he’s not scared. He’s not hesitant to mould the truth to fit a business plan carefully set out to fit the length of one year.

“The clothes? It’s a way to take advantage of the opportunity, obviously. Everybody’s talking about both our companies, especially this weekend somewhat publicly linking both our names - people will grab anything with Juun J. and Nohant written all over it. Especially if it’s on an idol. Sehun and I are both businessmen, so of course we were going to draw some economical value from this. I was actually going to see the merchandise reports right after I finished reading ; I can bet you they’ve already gone up after the small decline from last month.”

“Alright, alright, Mr. CEO. You’ve proved your point. Not a bad idea, really. I saw some idols working that fashion mix like a runway. Gave me some inspiration for some more colors for next year’s spring line, actually.”

“So really, you came in here to thank me, right? You’re welcome for the ideas, Key.”

Kibum snorts at the nickname. “Sure. I need to finish up the list of models before they’re all taken… I was thinking about getting Sehun to model, actually.”

Jongin’s lip twitches upwards in an involuntary grin at the idea. He’s quick to recover and put and impassive mask back on, but Kibum is quicker to notice the reaction.

“Getting the CEO of Nohant to model for Juun J.? Don’t call me a pessimist if I say he might not accept immediately.”

“Yeah, I figured only the exclusive could model for us, right?” Kibum is leaning forwards now with a sly smirk on his lips, waiting for Jongin to let something slip in the hope of more juicy gossip. “What’s he like, up close? I mean, you two spent an entire weekend together…”

“Sehun? Exclusive? I mean, I guess -”

“Is he really as cold as everybody says?”

Jongin shrugs. “He has his moments, more when he’s in front of a camera. He likes having a handle on things in general - from what I noticed.”

“So more of the dominant type?” Kibum’s smirk grows cheshire.

Jongin raises a brow. _Considering the fact that he rode me last week…_ “Not my first thought. I think it’s time we both get to work, Kibum. You’ve got more than enough things to do for October, and you’re not going to be paid for interrogating me.”

“I’ll find some way to sway you, Kim Jongin, I know your favorite coffee order, after all.” Kibum calls behind his shoulder as he makes his way out.

“Then you can bring me one this afternoon along with that list of models and designs.” Jongin grins, thumbing through the year’s quarterly reports as he hears Kibum huff and finally leave.

Jongin’s smile doesn’t even fade after the room empties. The whole relationship dilemma is under their control, and now he can focus wholeheartedly on his job, his beloved clothes, seasons and silk.

An email from _La Chambre Syndicale de La Haute Couture Masculine, Paris,_ is the first notification to catch his eye. It’s Oliveria saying how he’s going to Shanghai next week, and he knows an ideal restaurant to meet and talk about details for February’s fashion week along with other influential designers and investors. Jongin can’t type a reply fast enough to keep up with his flying delight at the offer. Shanghai was settled to be three weeks before Seoul’s Fashion Week, all the better buzz for Juun J.’s grand finale. Paris, collaborations, Sehun; Jongin can’t look forward enough to the following year, already his favorite before it even begun.

______

Chanyeol had eagerly responded to Jongin’s message, and they agreed to meet up at Baekhyun’s mall for lunch with Sehun. Jongin feels a twinge of regret at his loss of contact with his old college friend. He and Baekhyun only exchanged brief casualties at Junmyeon’s party, and Jongin regrettably hasn’t heard from him since - too occupied with his wild traveling schedule. He makes a mental note to drop by after lunch in hopes of catching up.

But first thing’s first, he gets in his car at noon and drives over to the mall in a careful outfit, and a lavish car. Jongin sees him sitting on a bench, looking around with wide eyes, a little too tall for the seat and yet a little too small for his clothes. Jongin finds himself beaming as he calls out the latter’s name. Chanyeol snaps up to attention, a sunshine grin splitting his features as he eagerly wraps Jongin in a long embrace.

“It’s so good to see you again. I thought you’d mistaken me as one of the other idols, it’s been so long since I’ve heard from you.” Chanyeol chuckles into his shoulder, deep voice reminding Jongin briefly of Kyungsoo in a comforting sense.

“How could I mistake my favorite idol and model wearing my clothes? You’re a one-of-a-kind, Chanyeol-ah.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes and smacks his arm. “Flattering me so I can pay the meal huh? Okay, no, not going to lie, your jacket with this shirt is awesome. I mean, look at that muscle definition man, Sehun does his shit well.”

“Glad you like it.”

“I’ve already had a bunch of fans go wild when I told them it was Nohant and Juun J. I demand a ten percent share of sales that increased in my name.”

“Sales have definitely gone up, but you’re not the only idol that I hired to show off our clothes, but we’ll talk more business some other time. Maybe you can manage to convince Sehun for your cut.” Jongin winks and Chanyeol places a hand over his heart, offended.

“You… cheated on me? Did you two only get to know each other to play me like this? Are you going to pay for my lunch and then pay for the whole restaurant?”

Jongin grins and ruffles his hair. “You drama king. Out of all the idols though, you definitely wore it best, I can tell you that.”

“Yeah, sure. We’ll see what Sehun says. Man, I can’t even believe you two know each other now. I feel like Mufasa who just found his two cubs fucking.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how the Lion King ends up.”

“Deleted scenes are scary, bro.”

Jongin laughs at Chanyeol’s deadpan face. “Yeah, you haven’t changed.”

“I haven’t. You, however, what’s all this business about Krystal? The Love Of Your Life? You two were such a power couple, I’ll need full court explanation on that - with popcorn.” He pokes Jongin’s chest, leaning in to whisper, “Also, all this Sehun stuff? Seriously, you two better not make me a third wheel today or I’ll start obscenely flirting with the waitress.”

Jongin twitches at the accusatory tone, but he and Sehun had settles on steadily keeping things professional, so he rolls his eyes and pushes the idol away with a smile.

“There’s no third wheel if there’s no wagon of two. Don’t tell me you’re falling for the tabloids too? But besides, you would have flirted with the waitress anyways. I assume that that means you already found a place?”

“I can tell when two of my good friends have got something fishy going on when their faces are all over the internet enough. As for the waitress; you know it. Restaurant is right down there, the fancy stuff since I know you two are fucking princesses - shut up I’m paying -”

“Doubt Sehun will let you.”

“Well well, looks like we already know Mr. Oh mighty well now, don’t we?”

Jongin rolls his eyes at the devious smirk on Chanyeol’s face and swats him off.

“If your ears are bigger than your nose, why are you so nosy?”

Chanyeol gasps, but before he can retort, there’s a pair of large hands playfully fondling his odd ears from behind. Chanyeol is ready to throw the ‘stranger’ to the ground, but Sehun’s amused giggle in his neck makes him close his eyes in exasperation.

“Fucking bitch. Don’t just pout like that you little -” Chanyeol snaps at his friend, the two getting into a childish scuffle in the middle of a luxury mall. Sehun even lands a kiss on Chanyeol’s cheek in the kerfuffle, resulting in Chanyeol leaping behind Jongin for protection.

“Go away, there are hot girls around here. This is the shit I get for being cute? Fuck both of you.”

Jongin laughs, patting Chanyeol on the shoulder while keeping an amused staring contest with Sehun standing before him.

“Come on, Sehun, his ears are what get him the girls - it’s cute.”

“I know it is. He hates aegyo.” Sehun whispers, disappearing behind Jongin as well to surprise the huddled idol. Jongin hears a soft pouting voice sounding oddly similar to aegyo, followed by Chanyeol’s horrified screams as he jumps away, almost knocking Jongin in the process if it weren’t for the quick hand steadying his waist - gone in a flash when Chanyeol turns back to glare at them.

“Fuckers. I accept apologies in cash, or as the menu.” He sniffs and starts walking away to the restaurant he pointed out earlier. The two CEOs chuckle and quickly catch up to him, keeping the third party in the middle as a wordless extra precaution.

As expected, Chanyeol orders one too many appetizers and smiles far too much at the admittedly stunning waitress. Sehun shakes his head with a smile as he swirls his wine in one hand.

“You’re too much, Chanyeol. When was your last relationship?”

“Hmmm… ended a month ago. Can’t remember why.” Chanyeol says while raking his eyes up another waitress’ slim legs.

“You’re so weird, Yeol. I would have always thought of you as a settle-down type of guy. You know, boyfriend material.” Jongin cocks his head. The idol turns his attention back to him, raising an intrigued brow.

“Boyfriend material? That’s cute, Jongin, thanks. But I don’t know, really. I guess I’d like a real relationship, family, someone I fall really deeply for… but for now I’ll blame my fast schedule that basically allows only fast pleasure. So I’ll take what I can get.”

Valid argument. The two others nod and are so close to moving on to another subject, when Chanyeol’s smirk widens.

“What would you know so well about boyfriend material, though, Jongin? Wrote a book about yourself while you were with Krystal? Or… is this more recent?” His eyes dart eagerly between the two CEOs. Jongin rolls his eyes and Sehun sips his wine with a glint in his eyes.

“Boyfriend material as in I’m in the fashion industry and I see enough couples behind the scenes and on photoshoots to know what’s fake or what’s real; if he’ll still smile at her after the cameras, if he’ll make her laugh or cover her shoulders when they’re alone.”

Chanyeol frowns. “Poetic prose to swerve questions. I see you. But -”

Chanyeol’s retort is thankfully interrupted by the waitress bringing their food, lowering her chest a little more than work-conduct as she places Chanyeol’s plate. The idol’s drool is either from the food or the sweet chest sneak-peek he just received, but it leaves Sehun and Jongin laughing into their napkins as she finally leaves. Chanyeol looks down at his plate, a little star-struck.

“Cold showers are up at the fitness.” Jongin chuckles.

“There’s no fucking way I’m settling for a cold shower after that.” Chanyeol deadpans.

“At least wait until dessert’s been served.” Sehun grins.

“I can think of far better cakes to taste-”

“Oh wow this salmon is really good.” Jongin comments loudly because the old couple nearby is looking like their emergency caller was on the line.

Sehun chuckles around his rice, glancing up at Jongin with a boyish grin. Jongin finds himself grinning back out of reflex - but apparently it’s just as Chanyeol’s boner had settled because suddenly -

“Oh wait, I was going to question you guys. Yeah. Okay. What is your deal? Like, how did you two even start talking? I’m just curious come on, tell me.” Chanyeol insists, swallowing a mouthful of noodles.

Jongin rubs the back of the neck and gives Sehun a hopeful look. Just because they settled on a final goal doesn’t mean they’ve yet figured out how to answer every targeted question during the promised year. Sehun clears his throat.

“We met at Junmyeon’s party - it’s your fault you weren’t there, don’t whine - and we talked a little there, but we mainly stayed with our dates for the night. The media was crazy about shoving us against one another, so we gave them what they wanted for a while, but then it was tiring - we both had better things to do than say petty things about another company for the sake of the press. Things went up and down for a while, we saw each other in public events like Milan…”

Jongin sees Sehun’s speech beginning to waver so he jumps in to finish the rally. “You have to admit that the beginning was pretty rocky, but we both got over it and ended up talking a bit. When the blogger thing came up, it directly involved my company too - the blogger had posted pictures of my factory by mistake since she couldn’t find Nohant’s main building. So that’s pretty much how we became allies. Also, with all this media crawling over us, we figured we might as well use it all to promote our clothes with idols who can flaunt it - like you.”

Chanyeol narrows his eyes, nodding like a mafia leader debating the profits of a heavy drug deal.

“Before you finish by flattering me to make me forget everything you just said -” He raises a finger but his train of thought seems to have been lost in transit. He curses. Sehun and Jongin chuckle, beginning to return to their meals in hope of avoiding the conversation, but Chanyeol’s memory has always been a flashlight with a sketchy battery. It flickers back on just as Jongin’s busy savoring a piece of chicken.

“No, wait a minute. Seriously, I may not keep up with your work that much, but I sure as hell remember that one time you, Jongin, fucking just trash talked Sehun on some show. You can’t tell me after that, you two are just strolling around the country together, partnering up and everything? And what about Krystal? You two were seriously my power couple, Jongin, what’s up with that?”

Jongin chokes. Sometimes, the damn clumsy musician is smarter than expected. Sehun gently pushes Jongin’s glass of water towards him. Jongin takes a sip, not daring to slip up a grateful gaze.

“Krystal and I broke off as a mutual agreement. We both wanted to try new things; she started dating another model not long after, actually, and they’re pretty happy together and so am I. It’s not that dramatic.”

Chanyeol frowns. Jongin continues answering questions as to not drag out the whole thing for too long.

“As for Milan, Sehun and I both had a bad day, and we were both still mad when we came home. So, we took out our anger on the talkshows. I went a little bit overboard, but I can tell you I felt pretty awful after it. At some point we did meet up - much later though, no I swear nothing happened that had anything to do with that stupid paparazzi thinking I went to his house - and we talked it over, decided it wasn’t doing any good to our companies’ profits or image, so we called truce and here we are today.”

“What do you mean you had a bad day? If it had nothing to do with one another, why dish it out specifically on talkshows?”

Jongin tenses slightly. “Because we’re rivals; it was a good excuse to give the public what they wanted, but we realized quickly enough that it wasn’t the best solution afterwards.”

Chanyeol’s eyes dart between the two. He scoffs. “Rivals, huh. That’s a pretty good joke now that I think of it.”

Sehun laughs. “Isn’t it?”

“Honestly, you two could be boyfriends this whole time and I wouldn’t even question it.”

Jongin rolls his eyes, heart hammering a little too fast. “That seems like quite a stretch.”

Chanyeol shrugs. “Hey, people do crazy things for the media.”

Sehun take a sip of wine. “Well it’s tough when your entire industry is based on image and other people’s opinions. Fashion is all about taste, season, style, value - all which change depending on the person writing about it or picturing it. People do what they can to survive in it - or even try to play with it if they have enough guts.”

Chanyeol nods, visibly too impressed to question further, and Jongin is more than thankful for Sehun’s clever tongue. After the lingering note of wisdom, the subject seems to have finally passed under the table as Chanyeol returns to devouring his food, eyeing the two others who eat too slowly for his liking.

“I thought you were competing in the fashion industry, not a competition of who can eat less, you two skinny models.”

“He’s the model here.” Jongin points to Sehun without looking up as he forks a mouthful of vegetables.

“I have a title, but I think we all know you could honestly decide to model any time you want.” Sehun quips.

“Yeah come on Jongin. You’ve got really nice features - even I got a modelling gig before you. Gotta keep up with the game if you want to sit at this cool table.” Chanyeol smirks playfully, shoving noodles in his mouth.

Jongin grins and shakes his head. He’s had this conversation far too many times; with Kibum, Junmyeon, Sehun, journalists… It’s merely that he’s always prefered being behind the designing and clothes. For him, it’s something far more private when he models his own clothes on the street - a runway simply seems like a whole different stress for him, and could remove some of his designing credibility if he offers himself the best clothes.

“Runways seem like more stress than necessary. Sehun does it well, but I’m too comfortable in my single position for now. I think modeling on the streets is way more interesting. But I’ll keep that in mind, Yeollie.” Jongin winks at him and they all laugh, finishing their meals as the waitress returns to clean up and take their sparse dessert orders, not missing out on a sweet brush on Chanyeol’s hand as she takes the plates. Sehun and Jongin rolls their eyes as she leaves the musician starry-eyed.

She returns shortly after; brings them their coffee and murmurs something in Chanyeol’s ear. He glances to his right as she speaks, shrugging and then thanking her with an award-winning smile - Jongin will have to admit. She bows, a dear blush peppering her cheeks as she wishes them all a good coffee and leaves.

Sehun and Jongin are staring at Chanyeol with raised eyebrows. The idol takes a sip of his coffee, narrowing his eyes at the pair.

“No, it had nothing to do with a potential hook-up during her break ; she was just kindly telling me about a few fans taking pictures outside, and asked if she should make them go away.”

“She sounds like a keeper, Yeol.” Jongin smirks, nibbling on the small biscuit.

The known playboy grimaces. “I haven’t had my coffee yet, you can’t start hitting me with feelings like that, Jongin.”

“Just a piece of advice.”

“I think she wanted to know if there were going to be more fans crowding the place and so more disturbing noise for the other customers.” Sehun states.

True to the CEO’s word, there seemed to be now about a dozen or so fans or passerbys who were beginning to loiter the terrace, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the three famous men having an outing together.

Chanyeol sighed. “Fine, let’s get going then. Even though, they should really be giving us a discount for giving them so much free publicity.”

“When does a rich idol like you ever think about discounts?” Jongin almost laughed when the latter’s large diamond Rolex glinted in the sun as he spoke.

“In this economy, when can you not think of discounts? That’s a good 5000 won that could go to my upcoming Vegas trip.”

They laugh and Chanyeol winks at them before getting up to talk to the visibly distressed waitress and her co-workers. From their table, they can see the tall musician reassure the pretty girls with large gestures, showing his endearing investment in their restaurant’s safety - before he leans back on the bar’s countertop with grand ease, effectively allowing the waitresses to flock closer with equally animated bows and large smiles - the one playing on Chanyeol’s lips hard to miss as he fiddled with their attention as though he were strumming his favorite song.

“Chanyeol is too fun to watch. Look at that one girl - blonde - her hand’s already on his bicep.”

Sehun hums, grinning. “Ah, his favorite noticed it too. Look at that little push - I smell some juicy workroom gossip after this. He’s got a good six at at time there, he makes so much effort look so easy. How do you even flirt with six people at a time?”

“I wouldn’t know - the only person I’d ever flirt with is you.” Jongin says quietly enough for Sehun to hear over the rim of his hot coffee. Sehun’s eyes sparkle and a grin twitches at the corner of his lip when he answers, looking somewhere towards the next table.

“I thought I was the Daredevil in this relationship.”

“And I thought I told you I had more than a few surprises up my sleeve.” Jongin sips at his coffee, eyes trained in Chanyeol’s general direction. He hears Sehun lightly laugh before murmuring: “You handled that really well by the way. It’s a good way to put things, leaves us enough space to breathe without letting them think we really lied to them.”

“Which, of course, we didn’t - and definitely not because they follow everything like puppets.” Jongin smirks, finally letting himself carry on the conversation eye-to-eye. Sehun mirrors his devilish grin. His gaze darts towards the scattered curious cameras beginning to swarm the window.

“Not because they’re desperate or anything.”

Jongin coughs to hide his laugh. “And the mean CEO thrives.”

Sehun smiles down at his coffee. “No, but really, what you told Yeol was a good speech. If Kyungsoo were here, he would have recorded it.”

“I knew you’d grow soft on him. Your final explanation was even better though. That part should definitely make it to the papers one day.”

“And to hope for the best.”

Jongin grins and their gazes wander to where they both see Chanyeol beginning to pull his wallet out of his pocket, talking to the waitress with the bill in hand.

Sehun reacts first, muttering a curse as he stands and strides over to intervene, whipping out his credit card first. Jongin sighs, alone at the table now, as he watches the two grown men argue over the bill. They ignore the girls’ starry eyes and Jongin has to fight back a grin as a couple attempt to calm the pair by resting their small hands on their arms or high shoulders with small massages. If only they knew.

Finally, it seems as though Chanyeol - surprisingly enough - managed to settle a compromise. Sehun rolls his eyes and walks back over to the table, sighing as he sits. “He told me to save my money for his next concert.”

“And you let it go?”

Sehun shrugs. “All the girls started scrambling for autographs; I wasn’t going to steal his spotlight - he’s too used to it. Besides, I was glad to get out of there.”

“I don’t know, seemed like a pretty good crowd to me.” Jongin grins.

“Not an ounce of jealousy?”

“You wish, Mr. Oh.”

Sehun smiles and shakes his head at that, finishing off Chanyeol’s coffee before the idol can see. Chanyeol finally escapes his new fanclub, smelling of a mix of far too many perfumes as they all put on their jackets to leave.

“Whichever of them was wearing Chanel number 5 is out of the question, Chanyeol.” Sehun comments, wrinkling his nose. Chanyeol frowns and looks back towards the group of waitresses getting reprimanded by the chef for letting the food go cold.

“I think that was the blonde over there. She wasn’t that great anyway. Is it really that bad?”

“You smell like a kid who just broke into a perfume store.” Jongin laughs.

“Shut up!” Chanyeol’s eyes widen as they step outside. He sniffs his shoulder when Sehun turns around, and Jongin can see him quietly gag. “I need a new shirt.”

“If I’m paying you to wear my brand, you will suffer with the smell until you’re single again.” Sehun calls from ahead.

Jongin smirks. “Harsh. As long as the jacket’s okay, you can go shirtless for all I care.”

“Alright, give me a minute.” Chanyeol starts taking off his jacket and reaches for the hem of his shirt just before Sehun pushes him forward, the goofy idol laughing as he stumbles right into a fan behind her camera. He apologises profusely and helps her steady herself again, smiling the whole while. They continue walking, and Jongin can see the fan scream to her friends in hysterics. A few others have started to notice Sehun and Jongin as well, so Sehun tugs on Chanyeol’s sleeve.

“I think we should find refuge in some store soon.”

“There’s a Juun J. shop on the second floor.” Jongin offers.

Someone starts calling Sehun’s name and he nods quickly. “Sounds good.”

They walk more briskly towards the elevator now, passing a sultry lingerie store on the way. Jongin subtly eyes the erotic displays - red lace ties, black silk robes and sleek thigh stockings, sweet tease clinging to the model’s toned skin. His mind flashes to the numerous echoes of Sehun’s underlying cross-dressing fantasies. Something inside him stirs in intrigue, sparking desire to wear something so provocative, sweetly intimate for Sehun to fall apart at his sight.

He briefly glances at Sehun, lost in thought. He doesn’t even realize they’ve entered the Juun J. luxury store until he hears a manager welcoming him with a red smile. He calms the fires of thought dancing in the back of his mind enough to introduce his two companions, turning to see Sehun discreetly smacking Chanyeol’s hand away from knocking over a bag.

The workers seem a little thrown off by Sehun’s infamous presence, but Jongin asks them to welcome them warmly with no room to argue. They all quickly nod and Jongin is then busy observing the store as well as presenting the clothes to Sehun and Chanyeol when there’s a sudden commotion from the front door.

“What is this? The CEO of Juun J. visits his shop and nobody even tells me!”

The trio turn to see Byun Baekhyun, director of the mall; a short, well-kept, sharp-tongued korean with exceptionally delicate features. Jongin grins and goes over to hug his friend.

“I’m sorry for not telling you, we wanted to lie low a bit.”

“Lie low? I haven’t seen you properly in years Jongin. The least you could have done was warn me.”

Jongin can hear the light quiver in his friend’s sweet voice and it raises a tight ball of guilt in his throat. He pulls away and apologizes earnestly. Thank goodness Baekhyun is always quick to snap back into the mood.

“But now you’re here -” he stands on his tiptoes to peer over Jongin’s shoulder, and stops short when he spots Sehun looking at him with a skeptical expression. Jongin clears his throat, stepping aside.

Sehun introduces himself first, reaching out a hand to shake with Baekhyun.

“Oh Sehun, head of Nohant fashion -”

“Trust me when I say I’ve heard your name before…” Baekhyun says, casting a curious glance towards Jongin as they shake hands.

“We’ll explain later.” Jongin says, tracing a stitching on one of his personal favorite jackets.

“Park Chanyeol. Uh... I’m a solo artist but my new album is called Constellations if that’s any help…” Chanyeol had apparently pushed Sehun aside for his own introductions - awkward and unusually sweet as they shake hands.

There’s a soft smile lining Baekhyun’s lips as he listens to the musician ramble about his music without ever saying a word himself. Sehun and Jongin watch the two interact, Baekhyun finally speaking up and Chanyeol apologizing as he realizes how much he’s said already without even letting the latter talk. The two laugh about it and there’s an obvious immediate spark between the two. Sehun lightly nudges Jongin’s elbow.

“Looks like Yeollie doesn’t need a waitress anymore.”

“You know he’ll run a mile away from anything with a hint of a sexual dick.”

Sehun hums, turning towards a display of loose pants as he speaks in hushed tones. “Anything is possible. Anyway, Baekhyun doesn’t seem to like me.”

“It’s just unexpected for my rival to show up in my store. I’m sure everybody else is just as confused.”

Sehun glances at the saleswoman not too far away, murmuring. “Well, it gives us a chance to practice that little test speech some more. And with any luck, the couple reporters outside will fly to Baekhyun for ‘insider information’, and he’ll let leak just what we’ve told him so it’ll be clarified. Then we can confirm sometime later.”

Jongin nods and starts explaining the economical advantage of the dress’ material to Sehun more loudly as the hear Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s nearing chatter.

“So, Sehun-issi, may I ask why the random intrusion in your competition’s store? I mean, I won’t say it out loud if you’re trying to steal some ideas, that’s perfectly understandable, but I can always redirect you to the next store over.”

Baekhyun’s bright smile is like an orchid in a swamp of quip words - absolutely mismatched. Even Chanyeol seems horrified. Jongin’s eyes widen and he quickly moves in front of Sehun.

“Baekhyun, this is your mall but this is my company’s store, and that lets me bring whoever I want inside. Chanyeol and Sehun are trustworthy friends of mine and you will let me show it off to them, regardless of your opinion.”

Jongin’s tone is final, but Baekhyun simply does what he’s always done; matches his stance and challenges every story.

“Fine. You can show off your store. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s Nohant’s CEO - the very same one you insulted on national television just six months ago as egotistic, masochist, cheap, and rude. Now this is still my mall’s grounds and I can very well kick you out of it for not letting me know what the hell happened for you two to suddenly be best friends after several scandals.”

Chanyeol seems terrified and awestruck at the same time. Jongin scoffs but grins.

“You’re so dramatic. At least give us a more private store to explain.”

“You insist that it’s your store so much; you make it as you wish.”

Jongin laughs dryly and tells the staff to go on a 20 minute break, assuring they’ll still get paid. The store clears out quickly enough, and Jongin leads the way until all four of them are comfortable seated on a suede couch before the fitting rooms. He quickly recalls their earlier restaurant conversation, and recites it exactly as put before, eyeing for Baekhyun’s reaction; probably a tougher judge than Chanyeol’s endearing forgetfulness. Sehun adds in his part without a hint of stress or the lingering tone of a hurried cover-up story - which it was.

In the end, Baekhyun questions it the same as Chanyeol, the pair even teaming up like two detectives as they throw questions to try to reveal more of the CEOs’ relationship. Jongin mentally applauds himself as their interrogatory session finally comes to a successful end, with Baekhyun running his tongue over his teeth as though still trying to dig out another flippant question. Jongin smiles. Fashion 2, Music 0.

“But anyways, how’s your singing, Baekhyun? Chanyeol here has been trying to find a singer to help figure out a new song he’s writing.”

Chanyeol’s particular ears do turn a slight shade redder as Jongin flips the subject right back to the two who seemed to have formed a unique acquaintance. Baekhyun also looks half ready to slap Jongin for revealing his secret hobby, at the same time blushing slightly himself as he looks up at the taller musician.

The rest of the time is a precious dialogue between the two new acquaintances melting into the drizzling classical music that weaves throughout the crystal lights and silk handkerchiefs beneath Jongin’s palm as he and Sehun talk fashion secrets and business ideas - for the sake of interest and image. It’s only when Baekhyun receives a call from his secretary that lines conflict on his expression, that he announces a regretful departure; shaking hands with Sehun, hugging Jongin, and exchanging numbers with Chanyeol - a prettier smile on his lips as the idol compliments the runnings of his mall with a dear grin when Baekhyun finally waves them goodbye as he leaves.

Sehun and Jongin immediately cross their arms and corner Chanyeol, smirking like two kids who found the cookie jar.

“I think the last time you blushed like that was when Chen stole your belt and you were in boxers in the park as your mom walked by.” Sehun is grinning like a madman as Chanyeol hits his arm, telltale ears still red.

“Fuck off. He’s just really nice.”

“He’s also very open to new things - if that was something you were just casually wondering about.” Jongin offers sweetly.

Chanyeol pauses, but then whirls around with a sniff to walk out of the store. “I’m going back to my new waitress fanclub.”

“You won’t be able to find prettier lips or legs than Byun Baekhyun’s down there, trust me.” Jongin sings, falling into step with the latter after having waved off the re-appearing staff.

“Watch me try.” Chanyeol snaps.

“A new episode of my favorite show? Of course I’m going to watch.” Jongin laughs.

Sehun sings. “What do you plan on doing with that sweet number, then?”

“Getting discounts.” Chanyeol deadpans, chin held high as he strides down the escalator.

“Sounds close to finding other ways of payment than cash, if you ask me.”

Sehun grins devishly. Chanyeol takes a minute to process the innuendo, and once he does, it’s a storm on Sehun. Jongin has to hold Chanyeol back from raining more hits on Sehun’s shoulder as the latter laughs.

“Woah woah, no bruising the model, he needs that pretty skin for later.”

Chanyeol raises a brow, but thankfully doesn’t question Jongin’s potential innuendo - probably too embarrassed to care. He shakes his head.

“Bitch deserves it. You both do, actually. Do you have any idea what would happen to me if my fans and agency thought I was gay? I’d be ruined. Even Baekhyun wouldn’t be worth the risk.”

Jongin and Sehun slow a little. Sehun’s voice is far more delicate when he speaks. “Sometimes, people turn out to be worth far more than what we thought. Sometimes, even enough to risk everything for a bigger purpose.”

Chanyeol frowns and turns to face them. He’s suddenly more serious and concerned than Jongin has ever seen him before. “What kind of bigger purpose?”

“Maybe actually getting Korea on the same track as the rest of the modern world with LGBT affairs. People with influence are the ones who have better chances of going down in history as inspirations for those who are struggling with their sexuality.”

“That’s nice and all, but personally, I’d rather just focus on the present than risk just going down and maybe not even making the history part. Fast lane, music, fans, that’s what it is for now and I’m not about to fuck it all up. It’s all my hard work and I still have managers who can just easily rip my head off for it.” Chanyeol says with a sombre tone, continuing to walk ahead.

Jongin gives Sehun a worried look, but the latter only shrugs and follows. Maybe he said too much in the money of getting someone else on their side, but Jongin then figures it was another first test at opening up one’s mind to different views to see how a general public would handle it. Noticeably - a little rocky.

Chanyeol’s words of risk and worth fill Jongin with wavering dread. It’s true, the news certainly won’t be handled well by the professional world. But the young are so much more open; and they’re those who will soon have the power. Some won’t be willing to follow their footsteps, but hopefully they’ll at least support them.

Jongin looks up to see Chanyeol and Sehun joking around again, apparently all just water under the bridge like they’ve done countless times when things get too serious. Sehun’s smile lines his eyes into gleeful crescents, and Jongin finds himself smiling as well.

Some things are definitely worth everything.

Especially everything dressed in lingerie.

_____

 

_ (16:00) _

 

_ Krystal, I need to ask you a huge favor… _

_ Oh god this is so embarassing _

_ Fuck _

_ Um _

 

**_Oooh, Jongin asking me a favor that’s not a blowjob? I’m all ears_ **

 

_ You make me sound like an actual jerk _

 

**_u know ur not sweetie. come on, what is it tho?_ **

 

_ You know that one really hot lingerie shop in Gangnam mall?  _

_ Can u go over and buy some things for me? _

 

**_OMG_ **

**_ARE U TRANS??_ **

 

_ NO!!  _

_ It’s just… a surprise _

 

**_Is this surprise for a certain CEO? ;)_ **

 

_ Stop asking questions and buy me lingerie pls _

 

**_Omg okay but fuck that’s hot uhm_ **

**_What’s ur underwear size again?? I kinda need to know_ **

**_Also lmk what you want exactly_ **

 

_ I’m a small mens, so do what you want with that. And idk just buy something sexy?? Fishnet stockings, lace thighs, lace or silk stuff… _

 

**_Black, red, white, light blue, right?_ **

**_U want a brassiere too?_ **

 

_ Perfect. _

_ Sure (keep in mind I don’t have ur chest though)  _

_ just get whatever you think I’d look amazing in and buy it. Send me the bill after, I’ll pay u back.  _

 

**_Will do sir_ **

**_Omg this is fucking wild_ **

**_I’m buying lingerie for my ex who wants to put on a show for his boyfriend._ **

**_Wow_ **

**_I’m leaving right now, see u at urs in two hours_ **

 

_ Thank you Krystaaaaaal-ah ~ _

 

Jongin lowers his phone and knocks back a glass of whiskey. He sizes himself up in the mirror on his dressing table. In two hours, he’ll finally see if he’s better than Miranda Kerr in lace lingerie. He eyes the clock, shakes his head with a smile and pours himself another glass.

_______


	13. Better in lace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise me

“Holy shit Jongin that’s not fucking fair. I tried that same pair last month and you dare look even better than me? Nope, not having it. No wonder you put your dogs outside; they would have just all jumped you before Sehun.”

Jongin actually blushes. The fabric is scratchy on his sensitive pelvis, but Krystal has chosen sharp colors in a way that pleases incredibly to his designer’s aesthetic. White stockings smooth up his tanned legs, topped up his thigh with snow lace and small black linings. They’re held up with white strips that attach to the lace underwear.

The panties. A white sort of thong - but with enough lace to make his ass look absolutely delicious - so small and teasing as it cups his bulge and rides lower down his pelvis. The white makes it so innocent yet it melts against his skin like liquid marble hardening over bronze - just barely enough to cover up the devilish intentions and darkest desires. 

Krystal also took the liberty in adding something special. A black and white school-girl skirt. It’s just enough to cover the cheeky stocking topping up his thigh, only forgiving flashes of his dirty secret. He twirls in front of the mirror, jaw slack at the insanely devious outfit. 

He feels like he could walk around town, fuck older men and keen “daddy” while on his knees before them. It stirs something new in his gut - maybe bad, maybe good, but he knows that at least for Sehun it’ll be simply amazing.

Krystal even hands him a small glittering choker. It’s more pretty than it’s kinky, but Jongin puts it on slowly, silently wondering if he’s supposed to pay her back for what seems to be real diamonds to ornate his neck. It’s a beautiful thing, tight around his tendons yet soft enough to allow arched movements - quite useful.

Krystal helps him attach it, slender fingers spreading across his shoulders as he admires himself in the mirror. “It’s my gift. I hesitated between a crop top or a bowtie, and this was the best bet - the brassieres were a little too plain. I think Sehun will like it.”

Jongin chuckles, trying not to lean into her familiar warmth that’s still too tempting, small touch sinking into his shoulders. “He’ll probably try to buy me rubies and sapphires to prove he’s better.”

“Then you can thank me for getting you on a sugar daddy high.”

“Or maybe I can just organize a photoshoot for you and Mingyu.”

“That works too.” Krystal smiles, lightly squeezing his naked biceps. She frowns, and air lodges in Jongin’s throat when her hands smooth over the front of his skirt precariously. “I don’t know… Is the skirt too long?”

“Want me to take it off?” Jongin smirks, tugging on the skirt while crossing his legs in a school-girl fashion. Krystal shrieks and jumps back onto the bed.

“I. Have. A. Boyfriend.” She pauses to glare at him. “But fuck do you think Mingyu could wear that? Nobody can. Stop being so fucking-”

Jongin straddles her, hands on either side of her head. The skirt rides up past the lace linings as his longs legs are parted to cage her in. Her eyes widen and Jongin feels a lost power simmer beneath his palms and groan inside his chest - the satisfying dominance paired with a kinky submissive outfit. He chooses to play with it.

“But I’m so innocent.” He breathes into her ear and he could have sworn she shivered. It’s a compromising position, he knows, but he’s genuinely curious to know if it’s really as hot as she makes it sound. He wants to know if he can have Sehun as breathless and worked up as Krystal right now.

“Jongin… what are you doing?” Her voice is too small and suddenly he feels guilt wash over the brief fire fueling his actions.

“Sorry. I wanted to practice.”

“You really don’t need to.” Her eyes are squeezed shut. Jongin raises a satisfied brow and removes himself to go strut in front of the mirror again. 

“You’re impossible you know. Never thought I would meet someone with a bigger ego than myself.” She snaps from behind.

“You clearly haven’t met Sehun.”

“You’re no better.”

“Fair enough. Can you teach me how to walk and straddle, and pout or whatever?”

Krystal’s grin widens. “You’re really going all out huh? What’s this all for anyway?”

“He’s always seemed to joke around about wanting to see me in lingerie, so I thought might as well give him what he wants. I’m pretty bad at resisting him.”

“God you two will be the death of me I swear.” Krystal grins as she hops up, clapping her hands to attention. She shows a perfect example of a few simple model walks, notably the strut, shoulders, smouldering gaze, swinging hips. Jongin feels rather ridiculous doing so in lingerie so he begs to change into sweatpants for now and Krystal only gives in to his pleads after he promises her a free nail salon trip. 

His moves are more fluid in sweatpants, and it allows him to be far clumsier and goofy than Krystal’s strict teaching would like, but when he actually puts effort into it, the girl is left with a wanton gaze devouring his body. The smirk lining his lips is the result of a peacock pride building throughout the powerful walks. Chin up, gaze low, strut strong. 

After about an hour or so of “training” Krystal slow claps in approval. 

“I think you’re ready for the runway of your life. I’ll be waiting for a call from Vogue for that photoshoot soon, then.”

“Anything for you Krystal, honestly thank you so much.” Jongin smiles and pulls her in for an embrace. It’s an odd yet easy-going bond they have, and it’s a somewhat comforting reminder that he’s still attracted to both genders - even if he does sometimes have to remind himself that Sehun is the priority when Krystal’s soft lips brush his neck. 

She waves him goodbye as she skips outside, after having wished him good luck for his “surprise”. 

Curiously enough, he receives a text from the secretly lucky man himself just as he’s busy feeding his dogs. 

Great news, Seomin fessed up and we’ve agreed on an out-of-court mediation for next week. I’ve also got a surprise for you next time we meet ;)

Finally! Can’t wait to see you get paid for being better than the media haha  
I’m eager to see it ;)

Jongin is more than relieved to know that everything will soon be settled, and hopefully some mediatic order will be restored afterwards - all the more satisfying to know it really was Seomin. Jongin did hesitate on dropping a slight hint about his own surprise, but he decided it would only tarnish its brilliance. He pats his dogs, grinning. Next week can’t come quickly enough.

_____________________

The following week, Jongin manages to sneak into Sehun’s house with the help of the pretty maid who leads him through the house, strutting in front with a dress that’s far too short to be something appropriate. Jongin feels a twinge of jealousy to see the lace ruffling the edges of her neckline. 

He pushes before her and ends up walking alone straight to Sehun’s room, ordering her to leave out the mention of his presence. He passes the stunning portrait of Miranda Kerr on his way, feeling the tights beneath his sweatpants a little more than before.

Soon, it’ll be him on that wall of fame. 

He closes the door and sits on his favorite sofa. A modern clock above the TV reads 6:35pm. Sehun had eagerly texted him about the out-of-court-mediation that would take place after work - which finished at 5pm and so the law dealings should take about an hour or two. Jongin arrived dressed in basic black sweatpants - plain cotton to cover up sexy surprise. 

He pulls out his laptop but winces slightly as the lace digs straight up his ass, squeezing his crotch in a way that’s kinkier than he’s ever experienced before. He decides to leave it in order to adjust to the new feeling for a bit longer. The skirt peeks out from the corner of his bag. He tries not to look at it too much - it wouldn’t do if he gets himself worked up before Sehun even sees him. 

He manages to focus entirely on the report until he hears slow footsteps approaching in the corridor. He keeps his eyes riveted on his computer screen, not even reading anymore with his heartbeat racing in his ears and the tights on his legs. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Sehun asks. He’d entered the room already, re-adjusting his tailored suit with a look of amusement on his features. Jongin’s mouth differs to logic answers.

“When did you dye your hair?” 

Because yes, Jongin is jaw-slack at Sehun’s new jet-black hair. It contrasts his skin in a beautiful, dark way, so much more natural yet mysterious than the striking bleached blonde. Sehun laughs.

“It was supposed to be my surprise.”

“It’s nice.” Jongin smiles up at him, hands still lingering on his keyboard. Sehun shakes his head at him with a grin.

“You surprised me more, though.”

“I wanted to be the first to hear about the mediation. How did it go?”

“Well you can start by guessing who’s getting a good 8 million won in their bank account as well as a written apology letter from their ex soon next week.”

Jongin jumps up and runs to hug him. “That’s awesome! I’m seriously so happy for you, oh my god, what was her face like?”

“She was fucking livid, but surprisingly fair. I had thought she would have burned the room down.”

“Thank god she didn’t.” Jongin places pecks on Sehun’s cheeks before finally being caught in a grinning kiss. 

“God am I glad to have you. Thank you so much, Jongin, really.” Sehun buries his head in Jongin’s neck. Jongin runs his fingers through the soft black strands of hair.

“I love you, it’s the least I could do.”

“I could think of a few other things you could do too.” Sehun murmurs, swiveling his hips against Jongin’s. Jongin stiffens because the friction was suddenly far too effective through the hidden lace and he chuckles offhandedly. 

“So can I, but why don’t you go take a shower first before you think of anything else.” 

Sehun pulls back, frowning. “I don’t smell bad, do I?”

Honestly, he smells like that mouth-watering cologne of his again, but Jongin needs him out of the room to change into that skirt peeking from the corner of his bag, so he pats Sehun on the chest with a sympathetic smile.

“Body odor is always better after a good shower.”

Sehun huffs and storms off to the bathroom, muttering something about rude boyfriends under his breath. Jongin stays in place until he hears the shower turn on and immediately strips off his sweatpants and shirt. He readjusts the panties, tights, and winces as he has to bend down to grab the skirt, underwear four feet up his ass again. 

He’s quick to slip on the skirt too, tugging at all the edges and smoothing the slight folds. The shower is still running, so he decides to do a couple quick pushups and squats for fresh muscle definition. There’s hardly any sweat after that, so he sprays on a hefty amount of cologne - all the better way to make Sehun melt at the mix of muscular testosterone layered with thin lace and delicate roses. Lastly, he slips on a pair of black heels. Krystal had spent a full hour teaching him how to walk in the difficult shoes, and by the end of it, he could walk the mile like a Victoria’s Secret angel.

Jongin finally relaxes on the sofa, admiring the white tights disappearing beneath the dark skirt, the flashes of honey skin. 

The bathroom door finally opens. Sehun’s milk torso is bare, slim hips narrowing into the black slacks from his previous work outfit as he begins to walk out, drying his hair with a towel.

Jongin slowly stands, hardly faltering in the heels. He doesn’t say a word as he walks over to his boyfriend who is still standing in the bathroom doorway frozen on the spot. Jongin places one foot in front of the other, hips swaying deviously, long legs rippling obvious muscle beneath the tights. Sehun has long stopped messing with his hair, eyes as dark as his foregone damp strands of hair as he eyes burn a languid trail of desire up Jongin’s entire body, and Jongin could have sworn he muttered a curse when he eyed the skirt. Jongin’s catwalk is sinfully long, and by the time he’s finally a foot away from Sehun, the man’s eyes are crackling black fires.

“Shit Jongin…” 

His voice. It’s at least an octave deeper, rolling in the depths on Jongin’s core, tugging at every fiber of his being to stand straighter, play the devil with a store-bought halo. 

“Do I get my picture on the wall now too?” Jongin smirks, and it pulls a grin from Sehun.

“Please tell me you didn’t dress like this for just a picture.”

Jongin laughs and places Sehun’s hands on his hips. “Not really, I’ll admit.”

“Good. Because this sight is just for me anyways.” Sehun places his hands on Jongin’s hips, thumbing gently at the skirt’s fabric. 

“All yours.” Jongin hums.

“You’re surprisingly creative when it comes to getting me weak for you.” He brushes up Jongin’s thigh, raising an eyebrow when he feels the lace top. “It’s far too effective.” He murmurs, pulling him closer by groping the back of his skirt. Jongin grins and traces the lines in Sehun’s throat, the vertebres adorning the back of his neck as Sehun kisses along his jawline. 

Suddenly, Sehun stops and walks over to sit on the edge of the bed. Jongin is about to whine when Sehun speaks.

“Bend over for me.” 

It’s a wish, command, order - of whatever nature, it has Sehun’s voice hoarse and Jongin’s back lined with shivers. He bites his lip and walks around for a bit, showcasing his newfound model stride. He turns around, giving Sehun full view of his backside as he bends over to take off his heels. 

The skirt rides up far past the tights and certainly far enough for a sneak-peek of the white lace further up his sculpted ass. The exposure and tease tightens Jongin’s gut and cuts his racing heart as he hears Sehun take a sharp breath. The heels are soon off, but Jongin certainly is far from finished.

What Sehun doesn’t expect, is the full lap dance. Jongin throws a wink over his shoulder before walking backwards, straight into Sehun’s lap. Jongin learns far too much from Krystal experience, and as he grinds his ass into Sehun’s crotch, massaging the insides of his thighs, letting out small breaths - borderline moans. Sehun’s gasp and sudden firm hands are enough of a reaction to make Jongin smirk. He can feel the forming bulge in Sehun’s slacks, feel the slight tremble in his thighs as he grips, grinds, moans. 

Sehun suddenly then pulls him stark against his chest, hard-on digging into the skirt. “Look at me baby.”

Jongin nearly melts and he quickly hops off only to come back to straddle his boyfriend’s pleased lap. 

“You’re beautiful. You can even work heels.” Sehun smiles against Jongin’s neck. 

“I can work a diamond choker even better.” Jongin grins. Sehun raises a brow and Jongin stretches all his limbs to reach over and snatch the choker from the sofa’s armrest, all while remaining in Sehun’s lap as much as possible. 

He hands it to Sehun. “Put it on for me?”

Sehun rolls the diamonds in his hand, awe glittering in his eyes. It’s funny, because it’s a familiar gaze. Sehun raises his eyes, and then Jongin realizes; Sehun has always looked at him the same way he looks at precious jewels. 

Sehun even glides the necklace over Jongin’s skin with precious care, nimble fingers cool across his neck as he attaches the back. Jongin wraps his arms around Sehun’s neck and slowly arches his neck, eyes always on Sehun’s before slipping closed. 

He hears the familiar whisper of “Beautiful, beautiful…” feathered against his skin. There are hands groping up the back of his thighs, tracing the lace, rolling hips against his, every second pressing lace up his ass, skirt up his thighs, cock straining against thin material as they kiss. It’s hot, heavy, hard, tongue down his throat, legs wrapped around Sehun’s waist, hands in his hair, hands down the inside of his skirt, snapping at the lace, gasping against his lips, fingers skittering the diamond choker, tongue flicking at the jewels - snow against shining mauve hickeys. Normally, they’re rather careful with the marks, but, clearly, pictures are secondary thoughts at the moment. Jongin has a hand pressed against Sehun’s tented pants, slowly grinding his palm while he swallows Sehun’s gasps with a kiss. Sehun finally breaks away, panting as he leans on Jongin’s shoulder.

“You drive me crazy… I should tie you up.”

“That doesn’t sounds like a bad idea.” Jongin grins, nipping at his jaw. Sehun’s hands stop their actions and he pulls back a little to eye Jongin. 

“Wait… really?”

“At this point, I’m down for anything.” Jongin’s mouth is fueled by lust, adrenaline, or whatever electricity that rips through his chest when Sehun moans against his neck when Jongin squeezes at his clothed member for emphasis. “Figure it would be pretty hot, right?”

“I have a pair of handcuffs.”

Jongin jolts. He’s wearing a skirt, leaking in lace panties, wearing tights and a diamond choker - at this point, might as well, honestly.

“Are they comfortable?”

“Apparently.”

Jongin raises a brow, but before he can question further, Sehun has hauled him off his lap and settled him on the bed, pecking his lips before he goes off in his closet to look for them. 

Jongin clenches his teeth and slowly moves his hand down to tentatively palm at his erection through the cloth. It’s uncomfortable, tight, wet, and he wants nothing more than Sehun’s lips, touch, hands, everything. He thinks about being tied up. He won’t be able to touch Sehun, but it’ll be more than worth it when he turns Sehun into a wreck by the mere sight of him. 

“I swear you’re going to be the fucking end of me.” 

Jongin didn’t hear Sehun come back to the bed until the deep voice rings in his ears and his hands are roughly pulled away from the sweet heat between his thighs. Jongin whines but licks his lips when he sees Sehun’s other hand.

“Of course, what better way to end your rival than making him cum twice from seeing you in handcuffs, diamond necklace, skirt and lingerie?” Jongin smirks, eyeing the pair of white leather handcuffs dangling from his hand. 

Sehun chuckles and pushes Jongin higher up the bed, closer to the headboard. “That sounds like a challenge. But damn, you’re right. Although I intend on doing a little more than just -” he nips at Jongin’s collarbone, cupping his cock through the panties, “ - watching.”

Jongin moans, back arching off the bed as Sehun keeps palming him through the damned lace. Jongin’s head spins as Sehun’s hand is replaced with his thigh, vaguely registers Sehun slipping on the handcuffs through the headboard, the click of cool leather against his wrists. 

Sehun then slows, asks him in a more worried tone if this is alright. Jongin nods with a smile, arms now loosely locked above his head. He squirms to get comfortable and is soon pouting for Sehun to kiss him again. But Sehun only smirks. 

“Oh no, now it’s my turn to tease.” 

“The fuck you mean it’s your tur- shit.” Jongin’s snap is cut off by his own moan as Sehun now mouths along the inside of his thigh, removing a strap with his tongue. He bites at Jongin’s muscle, pushing the skirt further up, tonguing the lace imprisoning Jongin’s leaking cock. Jongin is a writhing mess within seconds. 

He’s exposed, entirely merciful as he jerks instinctively at the handcuffs to thread his hands through Sehun’s hair, to pull, grasp, anything - but he’s chained to the bed and it fuels his racing heartbeat, everything thrumming so much more violently in a desperate heat. It crawls up his legs, spins inside his head as the cuffs clink metal over his whines, pushing the back of his head into the mattress as he arches into Sehun’s active tongue - now somewhere on his cock, licking, humming, tracing the lace edge with a slow finger. 

The leather is smooth and cool against his wrists, tights straining against his muscles as he tenses, shudders and basks in Sehun’s warm mouth and hot praise brushed against the inside of his thigh. His skirt is pushed up his stomach and Jongin wants nothing more than to get rid of the tight lace panties, so he whines when Sehun continues to tease him through the cloth.

“Babe… don’t you want to take them off?”

Sehun smirks up at him from between his thighs, rubbing the skirt up Jongin’s stomach. “I don’t know… This sight is pretty fucking hot…”

He slides up, lips brushing the choker as he whispers “I was thinking how hotter you would be if you came in this outfit.”

Jongin bites his lip and rolls his hips against Sehun’s. “Well then, make it fucking good.”

Sehun chuckles and kisses his cheek. “Definitely.” He interlaces their fingers a little awkwardly with the handcuffs above Jongin’s head. “Are they alright?”

Jongin nods. “New, kinky, but I think I like it.”

“I think I do too.” Sehun hums before kissing him breathless, hot deep, and suddenly Jongin is pulling at the handcuffs again, snapping his hips against Sehun’s for revival of that familiar heat. Sehun isn’t as patient as he seems because soon he’s cursing against Jongin’s lips, grabbing at his tights and pulling his legs up to grind harder against the tight underwear. Jongin opens up, lets himself submit to the harsh touch which he so yearns for, shuddering and stretching his arms as he arches beneath Sehun’s tongue and hands. 

Sehun is quick to finally strip off his pants and Jongin blinks to see the prominent wet tent inside his boxers for only a second, because those are soon gone too - and he’s met with the erotic sight of Sehun completely naked, straddling his hips as he roughly strokes himself, breathing low and ragged, black hair far neater than it would have been if Jongin could use his fucking hands. The metal clinks again as he licks his lips. 

“If you’re going to tie me up, at least let me suck you.”

Sehun’s eyes widen but he laughs. “Well who am I to ever say no to you?”

Jongin grins and Sehun shuffles closer, still on his knees, until his hips are about level height with Jongin’s chin. Sehun strokes his cheek as he slowly lowers himself into Jongin’s open mouth, long length sliding in not too far since he knows how it’s uncomfortable lying down like this - and besides, Jongin’s lips around his cock are heaven no matter how far. 

Sehun may be gentle but Jongin is rough with his tongue, sucking hard completely with a firm mouth before pulling back, grazing his teeth against the tip and returning to swallow a third of the length. The reaction is always amazing, worth ten times the slight twinge of physical discomfort in his throat. Sehun gasps, falls a bit forwards but holds himself upright with his hands by Jongin’s head. He can feel the bed shaking slightly, feel the sheets twist as Sehun fists them, breathing more and more labored as Jongin enjoys himself with a sloppy, rough, wet and fast blowjob, chasing the rapidly hardening cock as he envelops it in his mouth to keep a hold over his towering boyfriend who has started gently moving inside his open mouth.

The precarious position allows only little room for Jongin to do anything fancy as he would normally; long licks and breathy moans sadly no longer much of an option , so Jongin says a silent prayer and relaxes his throat as best as he can for Sehun’s pleasure, avoids triggering his gag reflex all for those shaken moans falling from Sehun’s lips as he slides deeper down Jongin’s throat. It’s long, thick and intrusive, and for a minute Jongin is so focused on his breathing that he barely notices Sehun rocking into his lips.

Jongin uses his elbow to knock slightly at Sehun’s hand to make him move over. Sehun gets the hint and regretfully slides out of his mouth, eyes glazed and cock a desperate red. 

“I kind of needed my mouth to tell you that your cock really would look better inside me.”

“Now that you’ve said that, I only want to hear your moans from now on.” Sehun grins before he’s shuffled back down and engulfing Jongin in another deep kiss. Jongin arches his neck to swallow Sehun’s tongue fucking his mouth, sucking and gasping for air. Jongin’s mouth already feels so much hotter from Sehun’s dick, and he whines high and shameless when Sehun fully grinds his hard cock up against Jongin’s bare thigh, rutting against the skirt and lace. 

“Please Sehun…” Jongin repeats maybe once or two hundred times in different pitches of need and heat, against Sehun’s neck, against Sehun’s lips, pulling at the leather handcuffs and straining against the diamond choker as he pleads for the highest pleasure. Thankfully Sehun is just as hard and impatient as he is, and Jongin barely register his loss and return, the uncapping of the bottle of lube and -

“Fuck condoms. Cum on me.”

Jongin’s words spill out of his mouth and there’s a moment of stillness before the sounds of prep return, far more hurried than before. “I swear to god Jongin you’ll be the end of me.”

“It’s all in my plan to be top CEO - fuck.”

Sehun always silences his witty comments with a cool finger pressing into his ass. There’s a pillow slid underneath his hips, lace only pushed slightly aside as Sehun preps him slow and easy. Prep is never comfortable, always awkward and admittedly too slow for Jongin’s ache, but Sehun makes it bearable with small teases, little chuckles as Jongin twitches around his fingers. It’s different, though, with lace pushing against the side of Sehun’s hand, everything strained and tight as Jongin shudders and pulls the handcuffs. 

Thankfully Sehun knows exactly when to go - probably when Jongin has started to slowly rock into his fingers, breathing a little easier as he pushes his head back into the mattress, eyes closed - and soon it’s all over and there’s finally the hot length rubbing against the lace. 

“Make me cum twice then?” Sehun chuckles, smoothing the skirt over Jongin’s stomach. Jongin smirks up at him. “Sure, babe.”

Sehun shakes his head with a grin and snaps at the lace pitifully barely holding Jongin’s hard cock. Jongin gaps for show, but it’s soon turned against him when Sehun finally - finally - inches in. 

Jongin’s groan is rattled and he hisses, the handcuffs clinking above him in a chorus with Sehun’s infamous low moan. It’s still far too tight, hot, slightly painful - but dear god he’s full, whole and completely sedated, feeling Sehun’s length pulsing slightly inside of him.   
He hears Sehun chuckle above him through closed eyes and feels the three kisses placed on his cheeks and lips. 

“You look so satisfied.”

“Because I am.” Jongin smiles up at him. He motions for a kiss and Sehun obliges with a mirrored grin. Sweet satisfaction turns quickly into hot need once again as Sehun starts moving, gripping Jongin’s hips, fingers curling into the lace stitching as he opens him up - mouth, tongue, ass - Jongin whines and lets himself melt into the touch, arches his back and flexes his arms as Sehun rocks him steadily against the bed. 

His favorite part is always the way Sehun licks open his mouth, slow and filthy as his hips pick up a rougher pace. Jongin gasps and his head spins around the fire between his thighs - still pushing against the lace mercilessly. Sehun’s hand grips the back of Jongin’s thigh as he hikes his leg up. The underwear pushes up as well, into his ass as much as Sehun and Jongin whines. 

“Fuckin hurts.”

“Not for long.” Shun hushes before pushing his hips a little higher, pulling out and -

Jongin sees stars. He tosses his head back and moans like he’s being paid for it, swimming in a thick honey of pleasure, racing inside his chest, pulling at the handcuffs so hard there’s probably be bruises on his wrists, his arms are shaking but fuck it’s too good like this. He strains against the jeweled choker, tights sliding a little further down as he clenches and tries to buck up into Sehun’s hips. 

He’s only vaguely aware of Sehun’s muttered curses, the harsh breathing down his neck, the rough hold on his thighs - possessive, dominant, and absolutely mouth-watering as he fucks into Jongin with deep kisses, deep touch, low groans and steccato moans of “beautiful… mine”. 

Sehun engulfs him with love and pure pleasure - white heat shivering down Jongin’s core as he’s pliant and exposed, stripped to nothing but merciful moans dressed in lingerie and handcuffs, chained to his lover’s touch and heart skittering across his skin, feathering the jewels on his neck, rutting against the lace on his cock. 

It’s all fire burning diamonds between his thighs, crawling up his neck and ripping his jaw open in burning moans when there’s finally a delicious pressure on his cock. Sehun’s hand slicks his length, relieves him away from the scratchy lace in favor of a rough pace, merciless presses to the slit as Jongin nearly cries jewels of pleasure, arching his back and breathing Sehun’s love, body, heat down his skin. 

Shivers run through his spine like static currents with every thrust, every squeeze, every tug at the handcuffs straining above his head - electricity simmering from his thighs all the way to his fingertips and the leather cuffs. Sehun keeps biting kisses down his neck, holding onto Jongin’s cock and his hair like an anchor. Jongin’s skin is inked with purple hearts and cursive curses beneath Sehun’s lips, tongue and ragged groans. 

The white flames consume Jongin’s senses more than ever before, roaring up his core in a burst of paradise. He comes with Sehun’s hand on his cock, his lips on his as he whines words of love into his mouth. Sehun groans in response, hips stuttering as he chases his end, lost in the melody of Jongin breathing filthy praises in his neck. He pulls out just in time to release on Jongin’s stomach - actually staining the skirt, but that was far from the first thing on his mind. 

“Goddamn…” Sehun breathes. His black hair is completely hazarded, lips stupid plump and a perfect sheen of hot love glowing on his skin. Jongin laughs. “Shame you didn’t take a picture of me before, the lingerie’s ruined now.”

“Pictures are risky Jongin…” Sehun whispers into his ear as he moves to remove the handcuffs. “But I think I could use a couple more sweet memories like this… I guess I’ll just have to buy you more lingerie myself then.”

The metal click is heard, and Jongin feels cool air greet his sore wrists to match the shiver up his spine at Sehun’s husky voice. Sehun slowly brings his hands down, and Jongin sighs as he’s finally able to relax. Sehun lies next to him, placing kisses along his wrists and soothing over his arms. Jongin smiles up at him.

“I think we could use these more often.” 

Sehun laughs. “Believe me, if I could see you handcuffed to my bed in a choker and lace everyday I would, but your wrists are already pretty red, I’d be scared of them somehow bruising.”

“You’re too sweet for me.”

“You’re kind of a weakness of mine.” Sehun nuzzles into his neck, sliding his hand down to push away the ruined lace panties, smoothing over the skirt and accidentally brushing over a sensitive spot. He hums a smile when Jongin shudders and presses into the touch. 

“Wish I could say the same for you.” Jongin teases. Sehun raises a brow and cups his cock a little more forcefully. Jongin gasps.

“I know, must be hard to speak with all those moans spilling out from underneath that diamond choker.” 

Jongin groans and presses into Sehun’s cheek for a kiss. “I love you.” 

“I figured.” Sehun smiles but indulges him in a long kiss, interlacing their fingers as their lips and tongues slide over one another. Jongin relishes in the post-sex kisses, always like sealing an envelope with sugar lips and revived sparks as they murmur known confessions into their necks, lingering possessiveness in the way Sehun cups his waist or in the way Jongin traces his tattoo with his lips. Jongin likes to think as their relationship as a dark watercolor, dripping blue between their lips behind the canvas of clothes and business. Bursting purples and vivid reds as they’re finally together, a painting just for them in clear lines and bold strokes as they breathe one another’s love in flush heat and softer pleasures. 

Decidedly, everything is just better in diamonds and lace.

________________


	14. Fashion Week

Work drags both CEOs apart for a solid month, but Jongin’s passion is fed and sparked when he gets to fly with his jet off to China to talk about France. Shanghai’s skyscrapers and dashing lights greet Jongin with an electric thrill, a futuristic utopia sketched across his smile when he meets again with Felipe in the city’s famous park. They walk beneath the shade of brown, gold and red trees, kindling easy conversation about fashion, differences, styles between the continents. Felipe’s english is better than Jongin’s, but nonetheless he remains engaged, and laughing heartily at their mutual grammar mistakes in the foreign language. 

At around 7pm they start heading in the direction of Felipe’s chosen restaurant. He gives Jongin quick and essential profiles on each and every one of the people who will be eating with them tonight. There will be a young investor who is remarkably smart and has shown himself to give the best strategies for innovative companies , Yang Li, one of the six newest members of the Chambre, whom Felipe invited for fresh tips on a new Paris scene, as well as Louis Vuitton’s CEO who has apparently also pointed interest in the meeting and will be sitting with them for dessert. 

All three seem to be highly respectable and Jongin can’t help the sense of pride wash through him when they step foot inside the luxurious restaurant, the kept waiter leading them to a private room reserved for the exclusive party. The young investor arrives shortly after; electric blue eyes and tied blonde hair greeting them with a bright smile. He’s accompanied by a short chinese man, small lips and characteristic cheeks forming a more serious expression; Yang Li. Jongin has watched the man’s shows once or twice, and he has to admit that his dark, gothic yet modern street style is strikingly aesthetic and wholly deserves his place at the Chambre. Jongin could only hope his own style will please as much.

They order entrees, and the young investor - his name is James, from London - talks for the most part, asking Jongin questions about Milan, marketing, his company’s stocks. Jongin thanks his intuition for having took time to check on the quarterly reports in enough detail to answer with precise ease. James was quick, enthusiastic, and would blurt out random predictions on their stocks, percentages and divisions flying out as quickly as the caviar went into his mouth. Jongin had to chuckle, but was nonetheless impressed.

After the waiter cleared up the empty toast plates, the elegant dishes of steaming duck, sauteed vegetables, dim sum and many other delicacies were flow out and set on the satin table-cloth with a precise placing. Everything smelled warm and delicious, and during their meal Yang Li talks with Jongin in slow chinese about his first time at Paris fashion week, as well as some details about being a member of La Chambre. Jongin has a small notepad at his side for important aspects on the whole. He’s between chewing on a piece of chicken and jotting down translations on the restrictions of The Chambre, when the designer asks him which he prefers more between a trench-coat and cargo pants.

The question surprises him; a brief flashback to the first conversation between him and Sehun. Jongin smiles and answers trench-coats, argumenting with the same fervor. Yang Li seems to have a slight grin tugging his lips, and it’s the first time he smiles in that evening. He nods and then continues by defending cargo pants as the best street style to pair with an edgy modernity. Jongin grins at the mention of street style and can’t help but promote Nohant’s name for just a minute - and it’s by pure luck when Michael Burke enters the room through velvet curtains, LV design glinting on his suit. 

Everybody stands out of respect for the world’s largest luxury fashion house, but the man representing it waves them off with a cheery smile. Felipe presents Jongin last, and they shake hands with the short french man. Michael takes his seat next to James, and just as Jongin’s brain is flitting for conversation starters with the billionaire, his name is called.

“Mr. Kim, I heard you talking of Nohant before I came in. Their CEO, Oh Sehun, came to one of my shows. Was nominated best dressed man, actually. Do you know him?” Michael is looking straight at him, turning the creme brulee with his spoon.

Jongin sits straighter and the smile grows on his lips before he knows it. “It’s a funny story actually, because our two companies were competing at the beginning of the year, but now we’ve managed to even things out and use all the media talk to hopefully promote a collaboration next year.”

“Ah yes, Felipe told me something about Milan… You two are smart, though. My collaboration with Supreme was the best launch either of us had had yet. Looks like your place at Paris fashion week could be well earned.” 

“Definitely!” James nodded with wide eyes.

Jongin kept feeling like a schoolboy being rewarded with a golden sticker, but it was the best feeling yet. Felipe grins, “It sure is from what I’ve seen. Seoul Fashion Week is coming up too, I believe? La Chambre has already approved your entry through me, but your spotlight week will secure your true value.”

“Yes, we’ve put a lot of effort into this October’s line, so I really hope it shines.”

“All the better if both Juun J. and Nohant own it to make your image and collaborations even more expected. I’ll be looking forward to it.” Michael winks. 

“A toast for Juun J.” James raises his glass with a dazzling smile and Jongin’s happiness blooms through the five clinking glasses and eager sips of wine and champagne. After their plates are empty, coffee lingering in their cups, James insists that they take a picture with his latest phone to post. They all exchange business cards, and Felipe waves Jongin off with a hearty smile and wishes of good luck for his return to Seoul.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Jongin would much rather lose sleep over Sehun’s naked torso and breathless kisses rather than slugging through phone calls and nightly photoshoots with caffeine buzzing through his veins and exhaustion compressing his head - but it is what must be done; a hard return to reality after Shanghai's luxury.

Seoul Fashion week is a perfect time to open the Fall season outfits; making it the most interesting season in the industry. No matter how many cherry blossoms there are flowering the trees or dancing in the streets in spring, the crackling reds and darker browns are always diamonds for the runways and Jongin’s personal favorite aesthetic for sombre colors. 

The week is organized in one warehouse - traditional, bland compared to Italy’s wonderful chaos - the schedule is set from newest companies to regulars. Nohant’s runway had been scheduled for the Tuesday, and it’s one day on which Jongin firmly decided to attend. Kibum couldn’t let Jongin go anywhere important without him, and so that’s how he found himself Tuesday evening stepping onto the red carpet with his right-hand designer to offer only a second of poses for the raging cameras before walking chin-up into his rival’s most anticipated runway. 

He may have been dressed rather simply: bordeau suit with white linings - but that didn’t mean he couldn’t land himself a front-row seat for the occasion. Kibum had questioned his choice, and Jongin merely told him in more detail about a collaboration approved and advised by La Chambre for his future paris week. Kibum’s eyes had blown up in glee and he popped open a bottle of his favorite champagne in the middle of his office to celebrate. News had probably leaked out, but Jongin had better things to focus on than the tabloids; such as hours spent at the office calling models, lining outfits, stitching loose hems. 

Kibum sits next to him and chuckles, “Nohant’s show and yet all the cameras are on you.”

“I’d hope as much; this suit looks pretty good on me.” Jongin adjusts his cufflinks. 

Kibum hums with a sly smirk. The lights finally dim just a little, only a strip of light for the runway as the music starts from the speakers above. Models filter out, strutting a perfect flaunt, interesting street style almost reminding Jongin of Yang Li, but with far more colors to animate the scene. It’s the women’s line which goes first, diverse skins and faces each sewn to fit their outfits - Jongin even recognizes with an odd twist of his mouth Danielle Lashley, the pretty who had stroked Sehun’s arm so sweetly with Versace in Milan. 

Jongin almost has half a mind to narrow his eyes at her flawless figure - but then he remembers with a satisfying curl how she’s merely just a model, and Jongin is Sehun’s favorite CEO, his favorite to touch. Jealousy clouded for a minute the neutral criticism he’d been doing on the clothes, so he didn’t even get a chance to really see her outfit before she’d strode by. Oh well, not a loss. 

Next up is the mens, alway the most interesting to Jongin’s aesthetic appeal. He loves designing clothes for women, but he could always relate much easier when it came to leather jackets and sturdy boots. He knows Sehun won’t be modeling for this week; it’s always more preferable to keep the CEO exclusive. Nonetheless, the models are stunning, brilliant skin gleaming with toned muscles and sharp tendons to wear the loose or tight clothes in a way true customers could only dream of pulling off. 

The show is only 10 minutes long - as all fashion shows are - and people generally only stay for 30 minutes after the lights are back on to talk, exchange quick contacts, and move on to the next show. Jongin isn’t really sure if he should talk with Sehun or not, but turns out he isn’t give much of a choice because soon enough Kibum is nudging his arm and pointing his chin to the left just as they’re walking towards the main area. Sehun had been talking to Michael Burke - Jongin had just seen the man three weeks ago in Shanghai, with no idea to what extent the two were close enough for the billionaire to fly across and see his shows. Jongin’s gifted little time in trying to wrap his head around the confusion when Burke strides up to him with a pleasant expression on his face, Sehun following behind, a small smile on his own. 

“Jongin, how lovely to see you again. I was just telling Sehun about your Paris deal, and how much I loved the womenswear.”

Jongin smiles and puts a hand on Kibum’s shoulder. “The womenswear was impressive, great models. My designer, Kibum here, approved too.”

“Kibum, I have the same Gucci jacket in my suitcase, actually. Great taste, no wonder Juun J. will be approved for Paris. I can’t wait to see your show.”

“Thank you, it’s an honour. We always do our best for our hometown week.” Kibum smiles rather prettily.

“You’re staying?” Jongin’s delight slips through the question, but Burke smiles at him. 

“Felipe is busy this month, so I took the opportunity to come review your show; seeing Sehun’s was a bonus to it.”

“I’m glad. And Nohant’s runway was impressive today, I’d almost be scared.” Jongin finally turns to Sehun with their favorite tease, and the CEO mirrors his grin. 

“Although Nohant is still working towards bigger trends, I’ll accept the compliment on the behalf of my designer.”

“All fashion needs to be credited to its business model as well”

“It’s true, Sehun. Louis could have never made it without his ultimate marketing strategy during the Second World War.” Michael nods.

“Well then I’ll take the compliment to my investors and advisors - I trust them enough to come up with something that doesn’t involve teaming up with Nazis.” Sehun chuckles and Jongin smiles.

“I would have never thought Nohant’s CEO to be humble; I might take a note or two from your book.”

“Oh both of you are too much; come on, let’s get somebody to take a picture of us for safekeeping.” Michael is about to call a photographer but Kibum has already gestured one over. The frenchman is about half all three’s heights, but he insists on being with both CEOs, one hand around Sehun’s back and shoulder turned open towards Jongin. Kibum is at Jongin’s side, and they smile for the flash. 

“Well then, gentlemen, I’m afraid that’ll be all for today, I’ve got a booked week. But I’ll see you, Jongin, at your show.” He winks at Jongin and turns to say goodbye to Sehun and shake hands with Kibum before he’s striding away. 

“He told me you two knew each other, but I’m impressed at how you two are almost family.” Jongin raises a brow at Sehun, careful with his words in front of Kibum and the bustling public. 

Sehun laughs. “He treats me like an uncle. Never knew why. I guess it’s just like you and Dolce.”

If Jongin wasn’t sure about what to say when the two were at such a popular event, Sehun’s mention of Milan is enough for Jongin to snap back into their old game.

“Don’t forget Gucci too. This jacket was a gift.” Kibum adds, chin high. Jongin grins and sides with his designer.

“I’ll send you a postcard from Paris next year, if you’d like.”

“How sweet, but I prefer the pictures Versace will send me instead.” Sehun replies with a thin curl of his lip.

“I’m almost hurt, Sehun. If you won’t accept my gift, then you’ll have to make up for it by coming to my fashion show next week.”

“I’m almost afraid I’ll be bored to death if I do.”

“I know, your ten minutes of popping colors and droning music did quite a number on my eyes and ears; I was on my way to sleep when the lights came on.”

Sehun raises a brow and Jongin thinks he sees the slightest flare of red in them. “Then I can only hope you’ll be awake enough for your own show; I’m sure La Chambre only takes the best.”

“They do, but I don’t have to worry about them, really.” Jongin shifts into a comfortable pose; for he can see the slight clicks and flashes out of the corner of his eye.

“High confidence. I guess that’ll have to work.” 

“It seems to be doing alright so far.” says Jongin, checking his watch. “Well I’d love to stay and chat but I have a company to run.”

“I understand, you must spend a lot of time in creating clothes to fit with mine for next year.” Sehun sighs.

“I don’t see Nohant single-handedly landing themselves a spot at La Chambre.” Kibum clicks his tongue.

Jongin grins and places a hand on his designer’s shoulder. “That’s why a collaboration with us is so important. Anyways, I’ll see you next week then, first row, Mr. Oh.” He inclines his head with a smirk and turns on his heel towards the exit. 

A laugh is bubbling inside his chest at the thrill running up his fingers. It’s been so long since the two have been in public together with an image to maintain, and Jongin can’t help but want to laugh at their mutual pettiness. The whole thing left his designer rather confused.

“So that was weirder than I expected. Aren’t you two supposed to be partners soon? I felt like I was watching a silent catfight. How did Kyungsoo handle both of you in Busan?” Kibum wonders as they step inside the Maserati, Jongin at the wheel.

Jongin laughs as he starts the ignition. “Of course we have to be a little competitive when it comes to our companies; we’ve both got impressive aptitudes, and there would be no fun if we didn’t play with it. He’ll be there next week, don’t worry.”

“That’s what I’m worried _about_.”

“It’s fine, Key. If we’re not at a popular event, we’re surprisingly civil towards each other.”

“Alright. As long as you’ve got your place at La Chambre, he can kiss Vuitton’s ass all he wants.” Kibum shrugs. Jongin chuckles and revs up the engine to slice through the autumn air with rich glee tight at the wheel.

____________

Juun J.’s big show finally comes. It’s the last one of the week, the most anticipated - especially after the news of his spot at Paris Fashion Week in February leaked out to the press, his investors offered him a luxury dinner after the stocks were as green and high as beanstalks. Jongin’s mood was the giddiest he’s ever been, and with all the models, rushing makeup and outfits, a thrill ran through the air in autumn waves and promising bursts of color when he sees Sehun take his place at the front row with his own designer, Burke on his left. 

He turns back to the models with a large smile, adjusting Junhui’s collar, brushing the fine line of his jaw with gentle awe, passing a light finger over Krystal’s hair. He always loved and admired his models; all considered to be the best in the city. Krystal gives him a smile as he gives them their yearly good luck speech, and with one look Kibum is snapping his fingers for the lights and music and the first ladies start lining up. Krystal taps his shoulder just before she goes on.

“Thanks for getting Mingyu too. He appreciates it. Also, good luck with Sehun and LV.” She whispers to his ear.

His chest warms at her words and his hand steadies her small waist out of habit as he lowers himself to peck her lightly on the cheek, careful not to smudge any makeup. “Thanks. Now go do your job like a queen.” 

She smiles and hurries off on her heels, and Jongin can see her expression change, chin high just before she steps out of the curtains with fierce flames to match her outfit. Jongin had saved her for last, of course, and had made Mingyu the first in menswear to follow her. He sees the tall korean throw him a confused look, to which Jongin smiles and gestures to move forwards. Mingyu is no doubt the best visual in the business, making sure that Jongin’s favorite line starts with a show. 

Jongin is proud and confident in each and every outfit, the stitchings, the colors, the message he’s delivered through his passion and how it’s showcased by his favorite models. Junhui is last, his sharp jawline accentuated with the professional makeup as he showcases a dark choker and a low-cut shirt which Jongin is sure to have the fashion editors drooling over. 

The models all mix for the last run together, and the music ends with a brilliant falsetto and the lights dim for all the models to return backstage after having given the show of the year. Jongin hugs Kibum and congratulates all the models who thank him for the complimentary champagne and food at the side as they all get busy on removing their clothes and makeup. Jongin pats Mingyu on the back and helps to remove Junhui’s choker himself, when Kibum tells him through a private whisper that the after party is starting and Sehun is posted near the backstage door with Burke. 

Jongin straightens his shirt and fixes his hair before nodding and striding out to meet the famous pair. 

 

“Jongin! Amazing show! I can’t even say how much of an honour if would be to have you as a part of La Chambre. The style is so original and futuristic, Armani and Givenchy would be delighted to have you with us.” Burkes greets him with loud praise and a hard handshake. Jongin doesn’t have time to decide whether he’s bewildered, ecstatic, thankful or proud, but it’s surely a mixture of all four which have his mouth gaping and stammering words of thanks. 

“I’m so glad you liked it, really, I was hoping it would go well,” He even lets out a nervous laugh, “I’m a little overwhelmed right now, to be honest.”

Sehun is smirking and speaks to help Jongin compose himself a little. “It was well done, Jongin.”

Jongin’s eyes slide over to Sehun’s and he’s still too busy smiling to even show off peacock feathers. 

“Absolutely brilliant. That last model too, his outfit was great. Silk shirt, I believe? Good move, since silk is in high demand for this season. James would approve.”

Jongin bows again and thanks Burke with all the humility he can muster. If he’d never been speechless in his life before, this moment would definitely be at the top of his list. Burke smiles fondly at him and pats him on the back like a father. 

“Well, that’s all I can say for now, but I’ll be seeing you in February, then. Best of luck until then - although I believe you don’t really need it.” Burke winks at him and Jongin bades him goodbye until it’s only him and Sehun. 

“I guess your trenchcoats paid off well. I did like Junhui’s shirt too.”

Jongin composes himself too late for Burke, but enough for the camera which has just popped up somewhere next to the stage. 

“Oh so you stayed awake long enough for the end? How considerate.”

“Your weird music wouldn’t let me sleep.”

“It was actually a hypnosis music for Burke. Looks like it worked well.”

Sehun rolls his eyes with a smile. “Sure.”

“So, not too jealous?”

“Not yet. Figured I still have time before I start moving for Europe. I’ll have you roll out the carpet ahead for when I get there.” Sehun winks and Jongin laughs. 

“Only the best for you, Sehun.”

They look at each other with impossibly proud smiles and Sehun says in a fond whisper, “The biggest fashion leader in Korea… I think that’s a title worth celebrating.”

“At Tao’s?”

Sehun nods and is about to open his mouth when Baekhyun suddenly rushes out of nowhere to tackle Jongin in a hug. 

“God I’ve been looking for you for hours Jongin! Why didn’t you tell me you were going to throw the best runway in Seoul, and was that Vuitton’s CEO I saw there? Come on you king, Junmyeon has been waiting with the champagne.” Baekhyun has already started pulling a laughing Jongin firmly by the arm to the public reception area. 

“Baek, I didn’t know you were coming…” Jongin says, and Junmyeon opens his arms to greet them at a high table with a couple of flutes ready to serve. Jongin engulfs his hyung in a grateful hug. 

“Sorry if he tackled you. That was an impressive show, I’m proud of you Nini.” Junmyeon grins. 

“Chanyeol is here too; says he flew out from Japan to come see you.” Baekhyun adds, craning his neck to look around at the crowd. Jongin raises a brow and smirks at Baekhyun, tossing a side-glance to Sehun who seems to be a little out of place. Luckily, the musician pops up with a hearty slap on Sehun’s back.

“Sehun! Funny seeing you here! Jongin! What an awesome show! The coats were so wacky and puffy, I could wear them all if you asked me to. I even came from Japan to see you.” Chanyeol says, bringing Jongin in a big bear hug. Jongin reciprocates and he sees Sehun scoff once they break apart.

“What am I, chopped liver?”

Chanyeol pouts at the other CEO. “Come on Sehunnie, my concert was on the day of your show. I figured if I came to Jongin’s I would catch both of you. I balance out my love.” Jongin coos and pinches Chanyeol’s ears. 

Baekhyun, to the side, snorts and eyes Sehun. “Some don’t deserve that balance.” 

Jongin turns sharply. “Baekhyun stop it.” 

The singer’s eyes turn wide, confused and skeptical at the snap, and Junmyeon is quick to intervene before Baekhyun’s mouth protests.

“Oh my god you’re all really so uncivilized; don’t you know it’s a crime to let champagne go flat?” 

Junmyeon’s pet peeve saves the day and their lips are quickly sealed with a toast and fizzy alcohol. Baekhyun is still eyeing him, so Jongin sighs and puts down his flute. Sehun still hasn’t touched his glass beside him. 

Chanyeol is actually the one to speak. “Baek, I don’t think we need to pressure these two anymore. It’s not too bad, and I even hear that they’re worthy of doing a collab together, right?”

Jongin rubs the back of his neck. “Well, it was anticipated since we got you to model mixes of our brands.” 

“But that’s for next year, after Jongin’s Paris week, which is what we’re supposed to be celebrating right now, right?” Sehun steps in, hand discreetly brushing Jongin’s for reassurance. 

Baekhyun opens and closes his mouth twice; clearly debating another shot or another silence before he finally caves in. “Okay fine, I’m not going to ruin Jongin’s big day, for once we’re all together.”

“Good man, Baekhyun. But I think this deserves a little more of a celebration than a bottle of - very good, thanks Junmyeon - champagne.” Chanyeol has a suggestive look on his face and Jongin turns to Sehun with a raised brow. Sehun takes the hint but frowns and darts his gaze nervously between the public company. Jongin takes the initiative to speak, then. “I had a place in mind, actually.”

Chanyeol raises his hand and waits for Jongin to call on him with a chuckle. “Question: will I get laid?”

“If your skills haven’t rusted yet, you might get lucky with one of the dancers.” Jongin winks at him and Chanyeol’s eyes go wide with glee. 

“Dancers! Man, you know I fucking love you.”

“I also need my best team to get ‘Myeon here a date.” Jongin teases his hyung who looks at him with sharp eyes. 

“I don’t need you kids to help me land a hot girl.” Junmyeon huffs, sipping his glass.

“Don’t worry man, I’ll tone down my skills to give you a bit of the spotlight, if you want.” Chanyeol pats his back and Baekhyun raises a brow.

“I find it hard to believe that you don’t need a wingman.”

“Is that an offer, Mr. Byun?” Chanyeol eyes Baekhyun with a slight smirk and Jongin can’t help but grin when Baekhyun raises his chin.

“Not really, sounds like a handful.” 

Chanyeol chokes and shakes his head. “I see you have a lot to learn about me, then.”

“I guess I do.” Baekhyun hums, taking a sip of his glass. Jongin hides his smile and Sehun says, “So, I’ll have a limo take us all out tonight at 9, rendezvous back here.”

“I’ll drink to that. Thanks for being successful, Jongin.” Junmyeon raises his glass to which Jongin mirrors, “Pleasure.”

_ _

That afternoon, the office throws a small party where Jongin officially announces his place at Paris Fashion week in February, as well as earning a spot at La Chambre; therefore being Korea’s biggest fashion leader. All the staff and models burst into applause, let balloons fly and pass cake around, shaking Jongin’s hand and hugging each other to post their pride on social media, being a part of the country’s most influential brand. Jongin’s investors send him congratulatory messages and even send him one or two gifts by mail - for those who are out of the country. 

At 6pm, the company filters out to have dinner all together. They settle at a great restaurant and immediately monopolize two long tables for the fifty-or-so exclusives. The large grin on his face feels permanent; given all the pride and joy he’s received in such a short period of time. Kibum is there to share it with him, savoring a chocolate dessert after having finished a bowl of kimchi, while toying with a black balloon which the waiters had given them. 

“We’re pretty amazing, Jongin.”

“Thank you for being with me through all this. I can’t say how lucky I am to have you by my side, really.” Jongin pulls him in for a side hug. 

“Oh stop it I’m blushing.”

“Now that’s my life goal accomplished.” Jongin grins and ruffles his hair lightly. 

“Well mine is finally getting to go to Paris.”

“I know. I’m sorry you couldn’t come with me to Shanghai…”

“Me too. But I got to catch Burke for a minute before he left. He said to show my picture to Gucci if he got the chance.”

“He’s a great guy. I bet you’ll love James, too, if he’s there.”

Kibum chuckles but doesn’t say anything. As Jongin moves his hand from his shoulder, he catches a bit of light on his Rolex, winking at him 8pm already - and half of them haven’t yet finished their dessert. He curses and turns to plead with Kibum. “I promised Junmyeon and the others I’d go clubbing with them at 9.”

Kibum frowns. “What others?”

Jongin rolls his eyes. Sometimes Kibum is more of a mother than Junmyeon. “Chanyeol, Baekhyun -”

“And Sehun?”

Jongin eyes the models around the tables, but they’re all too engrossed in their sweet desserts to listen. “Of course.”

It’s a bold response which Kibum wasn’t expecting, so he merely pouts and nods, checking his watch. “Oh, yeah you had better go then.”

“Can we split the bill?”

Kibum purses his lips but sighs. “Fine, since we’re in this for an equal effort. Go clubbing. At least I was smart enough to plan my after-party for after 10pm.”

“Sometimes I forget you have a personal life.” Jongin blurts out and Kibum laughs. 

“I do a lot more things outside the company than you’d think.” He winks, twirling a bite of chocolate on his tongue. Jongin shakes his head and pats his shoulder. “Don’t ask me, and I won’t ask you.”

“Nah, your life is always more interesting.”

“Doubt that.” He checks his watch again. Not enough time. He clears his throat and stands, calling both tables to attention to give a quick speech in addition to the one he’d already given at the company.

“Everybody, thank you so much for all your hard work this year especially, each and every one of your hours put into this brand has helped us be stronger, and I really hope you have as much joy and pride as I do working for this company. If the stocks keep looking bright, a little christmas bonus might be in store for your accounts.” He grins at the excited whispers going around.  
“Thank you so much for coming tonight to enjoy this wonderful food; no worries about the bill; Kibum and I will be splitting it tonight as a thanks for all your hard work. I’m afraid I’ve been roped into other plans for tonight so I have to go soon, so I’ll be officially giving the company an off day tomorrow; so go and celebrate being a part of Juun J. because as of today it’s one of the biggest honors in the country. Have fun!”

The restaurant bursts into applause as he bows and waves everybody off as he’s at the door. His wrist shows 8:15 now, He’s got about 30 minutes left to change at home, maybe shower and leave again. He calls for a cab - since he’d come to the restaurant in Kibum’s car - and soon enough he’s home, changed in crisp leather and styled hair, fresh cologne to whip him into a delicious Parisian snack. 

He calls for his chauffeur to drive him to the fashion venue, and it’s just minutes after 9pm when he arrives. Chanyeol is already shouting at him to get inside the limo, and he slides inside laughing at Junmyeon scolding the long-limbed musician as he almost knocks a drink on the suede seats. 

Sehun’s lips brush his ear to whisper a compliment on his cologne, and a shiver runs up Jongin’s spine at Baekhyun’s eyes on him. He blushes and thanks Sehun, daring to lean slightly on his side to pretend to stare out the window across, watching the lights blur by, the red needle on the dashboard measuring their speed - or his racing heart.


	15. Fluorescent love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Club night to give Junmyeon a sugarbaby,  
> Chanyeol and Kris to question their sexuality

_**Omniscent POV** _

Where office celebration cakes were heartwarming, electric cocktails and wet music were thrilling. Alcohol thrums in Jongin’s neurons, stretches light through his lashes and drips fluorescent love on his lips. Sehun’s hands are on his waist, whispering a word or two about Paris presents, Tao’s laugh mingling with the electronic melody in Jongin’s neck, and Junmyeon’s nervous tapping on his shoulder. 

Jongin laughs at his best friend and nudges the cocktail closer to him. They’d arrived in the middle of the club’s peak, and hadn’t hesitated on sharing two rounds of Kris’s favorite cocktails. Sehun had managed to tug Jongin and Junmyeon to the dance floor to talk with Tao, leaving Chanyeol and Baekhyun alone at the bar - since both insisted on being ‘terrifying dancers’ - making Junmyeon the only short man lost with the three tall, sexy dancers. So far, Junmyeon is tipping farther away from loose fun of the night. That won’t do at all. 

Jongin calls for Tao and asks him to find the five prettiest girls in the club for the short businessman. Tao doesn’t miss the opportunity to eye Junmyeon and even murmur something about himself being perfectly worth twice those five girls in bed, but Jongin shoves him off before Junmyeon’s tense ears can hear.  
Tao returns surprisingly quickly after to point out a couple options to Junmyeon.  
The latter narrows his eyes and his lower lip pushes out in a sort of pout which Jongin has always teased him for being ugly, but this time he’s actually interested in Jongin’s stupid scheme. 

One girl in particular seems sweet, yet sharp and lively on the dance floor. Junmyeon’s heart hammers in his chest. He clears his throat and asks Tao for a second drink. The stripper is quite stunning - Junmyeon’s heterosexuality will have to admit - as he grins and sashays away, spreading his long fingers over his hand as he hands him a straight vodka. Junmyeon knocks back the shot, pops a piece of gum in his mouth and steadies himself on Tao for a few seconds before maneuvering towards the girl. 

Okay, the shot probably wasn’t his best idea. His steps are a little off, his brain seems to rock back and forth inside his skull in a grey, undefined slosh, yet somehow manages to shoot out a couple clear opening sentences. The girl takes it in stride and Junmyeon scrambles a silent prayer in his head to thank the sliver of sobriety left. 

Junmyeon can’t really tell what they’re talking about really - the music’s loud, her perfume coats his senses and her smile flashes between the strobes of light - but his chest swells with something resembling pride and his lips are pulled into a lopsided grin and when they dance together her hair sweeps across his fingertips. It’s a pretty scene, a sweet feeling, and Junmyeon’s sobriety in the form of Kim Jongin applauds him from the other side.

Jongin smiles at his friend and a soft feeling is just beginning to spread in his chest - before swooping and engulfing him in a daring heat thanks to Sehun’s sly touch on his thigh. Jongin presses into the latter’s body heat and closes his eyes, safer knowing that Chanyeol and Baekhyun were on the other side of the crowd to let the two have fun without worry. Sehun teases him about being tired now, especially when Tao’s about to perform. Jongin’s eyes fly open. Sehun laughs in his neck, but they’re both quickly enveloped in Tao’s always stunning performance. 

His lithe form, tight muscles and scant clothing shapes him into an elegant animal, worthy of pretty purrs and fur fancies - worthy of every billionaire’s wallet when he arches his body, rolls his hips and slides his palms up his sleek stomach, pouts his lips in a soundless moan drowned in the music. Tao gets the entire club to fall for his spell, skittering his fingers over the flute’s notes, flashing sharp gazes to hook a rich suit by the tongue and reel him in with a metallic kiss.

The girls dancers serve as sweet side dishes, teasing the crowd as their mouths water over a taste of the main course. Tao’s flavor is spice, vodka, tonic in a sugar-rimmed glass - he runs a tongue over his lips, snaps his fingers and moves his way around the stage, down one’s throat with a burning trail of liquid fire and wraps one’s brain in a cloud of red forgetfulness. 

Everyone’s lost in the thick fog, the rubies dripping from the dancer’s lips, so lost that Chanyeol doesn’t even notice at first the girl dancer settling herself between Baekhyun’s legs next to him. Chanyeol’s eyes turn wide when he does see the long black hair, the slender fingers running over a jeweled breast, painted nails inching up the jean-clad thigh. 

If a certain awkwardness had settled between their isolated situation, it was either all amplified or transfigured into fire when their first dancer of the night pops up. Chanyeol is finally excited to get some action, but there’s a grin on Baekhyun’s lips as he arches his neck for the girl’s pretty tongue and steady hips. 

Something twitches inside Chanyeol’s chest at the sight… Jealousy. Of course he’s jealous; why should Baekhyun be the only lucky one getting a lap dance? Chanyeol’s jaw clenches, but then his eye catches Baekhyun’s finger tracing her neck, brushing his lips against her cheek - a brief wonder flashes inside Chanyeol’s not nearly intoxicated enough mind: what would those hands feel like on _his_ neck? what would those lips feel like on _his own_? _Who are you jealous of, Chanyeol?_

Chanyeol almost chokes and quickly turns away. A familiar voice calls him back, so soft, so alluring to Chanyeol’s tuned ears. 

“Chanyeol-ah, why don’t you give Tiffany here a little reward?”

Baekhyun is looking straight at him, both hands running up her waist. There’s something like an evil flick to the corner of his mouth, tongue curling sweetly around each word. Chanyeol pulls out a couple bills from his wallet, doesn’t dare look at how much he gives to Baekhyun’s slender fingers, how much of the tightness in his chest shows on his face.

Baekhyun takes the money between his index and middle finger, but places the bills between his teeth to offer to the dancer. She giggles and presses her palms against his chest as she leans closer to take the other end of the bills in her mouth. Baekhyun’s eyes flick back to Chanyeol and the musician knows he’s chained before even the latter’s hands hold the dancer closer by squeezing her ass, his dark gaze looking straight at Chanyeol as he slowly lets go of the money and lets the dancer sashay away.

Baekhyun breaks his stare to appreciate the retreating backside view, but Chanyeol can’t even think of anything else than the feeling that a handful of knives have just been pulled out of him all in one go. The mixture of pain simmers into fire, and now Chanyeol is feeling hot in all the wrong places and Baekhyun has turned back to the bar like nothing happened and Chanyeol really needs a knockout drink. Or, he could just mumble some incoherent phrase and race outside to breathe some fresh air. The former option is far more clumsy, so of course that’s what his brain follows.

The alleyway is freezing but its silence is the best greeting as Chanyeol regulates his breathing through clenched teeth. He paces back and forth between the small space, kicking at a crushed can on the ground. Aside from the entry security guard was a little way down, there was only one other couple sliding their tongues inside each other’s mouths, ash tumbling from the cigarette burning between the man’s fingers. 

Chanyeol finally stops to lean his forehead against the wall and closes his eyes. Wrong choice. His mind immediately clicks back to the vivid image of Baekhyun’s hair falling over his eyes, the strobe light shadowing his soft, open lips, passing, over and over again, light, dark, lips, eyes, fingers on his hand -

“Hey, are you okay?”

It can’t be the same voice that asked him just before to hand over his soul in the form of colored bills and to hold the knife deeper inside his gut - but it’s the same person. 

Chanyeol opens his eyes. Baekhyun’s looking up at him with an expression - dare Chanyeol imagine - of concern. Those evil lips only now formed a slight frown. 

“Yeah. Fine. Just had to get out of all the smoke in there - couldn’t breathe.” Chanyeol’s voice isn’t shaking, only his nerves are. Baekhyun nods slightly but his gaze does turn to the couple’s nicotine floating not far off, far more stifling than inside. It must be the dim light making it seem as though his lips curled into a small smile at the lie.

“Well, I just came out to tell you that Tao’s gotten into the crowd too - thought it would be a shame if you missed it. Jongin did want us to see him.”

Chanyeol thinks there’s a small part of him that wants to believe that Baekhyun had another reason for wanting him to come back inside, but he shakes it off, nods and follows the latter inside. 

Tao is reputed to make everybody forget purpose, sense, worries, and for once Chanyeol is grateful for the powerful red fog that separates him from the smaller man’s inexplicably softer gaze by his side. The stripper is hard to miss, dancer sweat and tanned skin glowing as he moves through the crowd, rolls his hips and brushes his finger over broken necks, simpers and smirks for each victim he settles on to please. 

Chanyeol has to crane his neck to see a bit more, despite his height. Tao’s currently focused on an older man, not exactly pretty, but the stripper has his arms locked around the man’s neck, his leg rubbing against his thigh sensually. The man has a sick leer on his face, and Chanyeol only sees his hands start to grope Tao with a little more force than allowed before Tao snaps back, eyes now a strict grey as he starts to twist himself around and out of the situation. 

Everything’s fast, and Tao would have certainly gotten out of it with that special wushu trick, but the man surprisingly turns it against him, and before anybody knows what’s happening, there are punches and curses, shouts and catcalls. A tall figure storms up to the mangle of furious limbs, and throws a quick, clean punch, knees the man in the stomach, and pulls him to the ground by his hair.

Tao is about to add another kick in, but the shadowed figure grabs him by the arm to drag him off towards the backstage door. A light passes over the shadow’s face, and Chanyeol starts when it reveals the bartender’s eerily stone-set fury and Tao’s aggressive scrambling from his arm, just before the pair disappear behind the door.

 

Tao tries to pry himself from Kris’ grip in every vicious way possible, but the bartender’s hand is iron for more than cocktails. “I was perfectly fucking fine by myself, he was just starting to lose balance-”

“Oh yeah, I guess that’s what it looked like from your fucking black eye, huh?” Kris snaps, finally getting past the backstage door. Tao rips himself from his hand and turns to face him.

“I don’t need your help!” He shouts. There’s a scratch on his cheekbone, left eye a little bruised, but that doesn’t dim the rage in his eyes for a single second. Kris sneers.

“I don’t fucking care. This is your job and I’m not taking the risk of letting somebody cover you in bruises for weeks. By the looks of it, I should have come even sooner. One way or another, I have to go kick him out now. Just stay in here for a bit, your shift’s over for tonight.”

Kris’ words are final and he’s already turning to leave when he runs into a frowning Sehun and a worried Jongin just outside the door. Kris throws one last glance back at Tao before telling Sehun to stay with him, and Jongin can come help him with the customer. 

The two nod and Sehun closes to door to Kris and Jongin who have gone back inside the roused crowd. Tao has turned his fury onto a dirty plate, and Sehun winces at the shattering crash. 

“God that was so pathetic! The jerk! How could he have blocked that move! What’s the point of even being a stripper if I can’t fucking defend myself? I’ll just be another slut, not being able to tell the difference between work and rape if I can’t even fucking protect -”

Sehun places an arm around Tao’s bare shoulders to calm his erratic breathing. Tao doesn’t let him see his face, but the broken sounds tell Sehun he’s crying. His fists are clenched, and Sehun slowly takes each hand to gently unfold them until they’re open palms of quivering white. 

He then guides him to sit on the chair before the dresser, but facing away from the blinding mirror as Sehun reaches for a couple supplies and starts to gently wipe away Tao’s running makeup as best as the alcohol in his blood will still. Tao is still crying and winces as the chemicals pass over his bruise and scratch - Sehun catches a few tears away with the eyeliner.

“You can’t be so harsh on yourself, and even less on Kris. You’re strong and fast, but there will be times when you actually do find a challenge, and there’s no shame in accepting some help.” Sehun finally says, sober as he's ever been, as he finishes removing just the last of the kohl makeup. Tao gently presses the scratch on his cheekbone. He looks down, twisting his hands again.

“Kris said he was just saving me for the sake of my job. That’s all. And he’s right. I can’t make this club any money if I’m limping or covered in bruises. That’s not what people pay for.”

Sehun sighs. “You hoped there was something more to him saving you.”

Tao clenches his jaw and buries his face in his hands. “I just… I don’t fucking know. I was actually mad at myself for not being able to get out of it, but then he shows up like some damn prince charming, only to then tell me it was purely because his salary kind of depends on my success. Tell me that’s not absolute bullshit, I dare you.”

“You know I’d never dare go against you.” Sehun grins, “But I think he needed a quick, professional excuse to say just because he had to go back out again, so maybe there was something more to it, but he’s saving some more explanations for later.”

Tao looks up at him through his fingers. He huffs, but doesn’t have a chance to reply before the door opens again and a more collected Kris and Jongin walk in. Kris eyes the sitting pair and goes to dig something out of his work locker. Tao has straightened himself, and Sehun helps run a hand through his hair to neaten it, giving him a small smile. 

“I’ll be right outside.” Sehun says. He stands and gestures goodbye to Kris before going to join Jongin in the doorway. 

A navy blue hoodie and a pair of sweatpants are tossed onto Tao’s lap. 

“You should get some clothes on. I’ll take you home, you shouldn’t stay here tonight.” Kris says.

“I’m not going home.” 

“Fine, you can spend the night at my place. Either way, you’re going to get dressed right now and I’m driving you out of here in fifteen minutes.”

“I have my own clothes to change into and my own place to be.” Tao snaps, and is just about to throw his offered comfy clothes right back, when Kris pins the clothes in his lap with his hand. 

“Tao, you shouldn’t spend the night here. We did what we could but people are amped up and you’d be a first target, even back here. Please just let me bring you somewhere else so you can sleep and put something on that cut and bruise. You could use a break.” Kris then loosens up and removes himself a little from Tao’s personal space. “As for the clothes, do what you want, but these are my favorite and they’re guaranteed to keep you from freezing out there; I doubt your ripped skinny jeans can say the same.”

Tao purses his lip. His hand is clutching the clothes in his lap like he can’t decide whether to throw them or hold on to them for a bit longer. To his silent embarrassment, he can’t find a single witty thing to shoot back in defense of his favorite jeans. So, he stands and goes behind the changing curtain. 

Kris shakes his head at the drawn curtain and occupies himself by carefully cleaning the broken plate.

-

“Do you think he’s gonna be alright?” Jongin asks Sehun outside the door. Sehun pulls Jongin to lean back against his chest, wrapping a loose arm around his waist. “Tao? He’s just a little shaken, but he knows he’s strong enough to get over it. Kris knows it too; he’ll know how to give him enough space and attention.”

“Sounds like couple dynamics if you ask me.”

“Kris is as straight as a plank, but he does seem to have a soft spot for Tao. They’ve been through a lot, somehow.”

“As crazy as us?” Jongin grins.

“Maybe not as egotistic and public, but in their own ways, sure.” Sehun links their fingers together. Jongin’s back expands as he inhales and exhales as he lays his head against Sehun’s cheek. 

Everything always seems to just fit right with Jongin; like a perfect suit, designed with golden cufflinks, silk tie and elegant touch. Sehun can never quite get over how well their hands fit together, how his cheek brushes against his lips, nor how pretty his moans always are for him. 

Sehun thought that he couldn’t possibly feel stronger than the mountains of heartbeats with Jongin’s name inked on them, but then he shows up with lace, diamonds, perfect pleasure and sweet submises - everything is heightened and brilliant when Jongin fits against him just right, just like this. Sehun had suffered for years from his sexuality, his obstinate character, his pride - but here the industry offered him a rival, a lover, a painter to color his charred tattoos and to simply kiss the tears which he so often bled. Jongin nuzzles into his neck, and Sehun simply knows he’ll never thanks the stars enough.

“Come on, let’s dance.” Sehun says, hugging him.

“But Tao-”

“He’s fine with Kris, he won’t need me. This is supposed to be your night. Got to make sure you don’t forget me in Paris - you know how Europe seems to bring bad luck so far.”

“Not this time.” Jongin grins, placing a quick kiss on Sehun’s lips. Sehun smiles and lets himself be pulled onto the dance-floor, bumping into a cheery Junmyeon with his new female partier. 

“Jongin! Where’s your friend… uh, Bao?” Junmyeon hiccups.

“Tao’s fine, Myeon. Have you seen Chanyeol and Baekhyun? I’m a little worried about them here-” 

“Tall and short? I think I saw them at the beach - uh I mean near the bar.” Junmyeon points haphazardly somewhere in the opposite direction. Sehun chuckles and gives the girl a sympathetic look, but she’s too busy grinning at Junmyeon and straightening his wrinkled collar. Quite a pretty match. Tao’s choices always proves themselves to be the finest.

Jongin shakes his head but Sehun’s favorite song just came on and he’s let quite enough distractions pebble their way for tonight, so he takes Jongin’s hand and drags him to an easier space to finally place his hands on his hips and let the music drown them together. Jongin laughs but compiles, melts into Sehun’s lead and follows the electric mix thrumming in the strobe lights. 

Chanyeol sees the pair dancing together, so perfectly slim and sexy, that it makes him feel quite awkward standing here next to Baekhyun - in the same spot they’ve been for the past fifteen minutes. It’s not all bad, really; so far they’ve seen a club fight, followed by what seems to be a jealous-protagonist-korean-drama-exit by the bartender and the concerned stripper, continued by Jongin and the said bartender rounding up security and having an epic showdown of yelling and kicking out the creep. 

That entire blockbuster movie material lasted a good ten minutes before the whole club scene resumed like a remote controller; but Chanyeol and Baekhyun were still left on pause in their small corner of terse silence, glitching only by the occasional funny remark on the drunk idiots flailing around - knowing fully that they were probably still having a better time than them. 

And also the fact that Chanyeol can’t really speak when all he can remember is Baekhyun’s soft theatrical moans in the girl’s neck. And Sehun and Jongin are still dancing like two greek gods and it’s really unfair because Chanyeol’s head is not nearly clouded enough to fog memories and vision. Things won’t change if someone doesn’t speak first.

“We’re clearly not drunk enough.” Chanyeol sighs.

“We’re not drunk at all.” Baekhyun laughs.

“Rock paper scissors who pays for the next two drinks.” Chanyeol makes a gaming fist and feels a little more relieved that he can look straight into those eyes again without - oh, nevermind; they’re _twinkling_ again, how is that even _possible_ ? 

One, two, three, game - and it’s Chanyeol’s paper that covers Baekhyun’s rock. Yes, Chanyeol’s still somewhat sober brain did indeed do that one stupidly triumphant move of actually wrapping his large hand around Baekhyun’s small fist, and it really was a wrong move because then his hand really didn’t seem to want to leave that smaller hand -

“Alright, fine, I guess I’ve already asked you to pay enough anyways.” Baekhyun smirks and suddenly Chanyeol wants to crush that small fist. Instead, he lets go and chokes a laugh. Baekhyun thankfully doesn’t let it sink their goal, and leads the way to the bar to order two drinks from a new bartender.

While they’re waiting, Chanyeol notices Baekhyun humming a tune, mouthing the lyrics by the means of those stupidly luscious lips. When Chanyeol asks the song, Baekhyun waves it off as just a random piece he started but never finished. Chanyeol thinks his soul might leave him and curl itself into the bud of those blushing cheeks because there’s no way someone that pretty can sing that well and have the brain to write musical songs. Oh, and also run Seoul’s biggest chain of malls. 

Chanyeol’s too shell-shocked to notice the waiter serving them their drinks until Baekhyun holds up his glass and motions for a salute. Chanyeol snaps up and clink their glasses. Both down theirs in little more than three gulps. It’s fire down Chanyeol’s throat and his head spins like a carousel five times round before he manages to somewhat steady it by blinking a few times. He hears Baekhyun giggling, and the sound makes him laugh too. He notices that the support on which he steadied himself was actually Baekhyun’s arm, and that somehow makes him laugh even harder. 

“Man, what’s your tolerance for a giant like you?” Baekhyun wheezes, tapping Chanyeol’s hand still clutching his arm.

“I’m a fuckin’ pro at everything ‘xcept for cocktaiiiils.’” Chanyeol smacks his lips and pokes Baekhyun’s side. “One round, two drinks old man. Keep that wallet open.”

“Swear I’m never doing rock again.” Baekhyun curses to himself but relents a smile for Chanyeol. The two following drinks seem to come before Chanyeol can blink, or before he can make his stool stop spinning. 

Baekhyun can’t push the grin off his face at the latter’s unexpectedly low tolerance. They take the second drink a little more slowly - it’s still enough to make Baekhyun’s brain feel whooped upside-down, but of course it’s only funny when Chanyeol is pointing at the other clubbers and all their stupid tricks. He’s gaping like a fish at an older woman sticking her tongue out sexually at a younger man, who rejects her by saying how cougars belong in the jungle, not in Seoul.

Baekhyun flat out spits out his last precious sip of whiskey and Chanyeol is turned into a howling fit of laughter. They’re both folded in half on the bar, rationality clouded far too much in from the grinning pain in Baekhyun’s cheeks. Chanyeol actually has tears pooling at the corner of his eyes as he gasps for air - and Baekhyun doesn’t think past care or awkwardness as he reaches forward to swipe them away with both thumbs. He almost actually sticks his finger in Chanyeol’s eye, but the latter chuckles and leans into his palms anyways. 

It’s a startlingly sweet scene, and Baekhyun smiles, cupping Chanyeol’s cheeks like a heart. Chanyeol’s bashful grin pushes Baekhyun’s hands further apart, and his eyes flicker back and forth from his ripped jeans to Baekhyun’s smile. He can’t tell the difference between his thundering heart or the music’s beat, and frankly he’s starting to have a panic attack at the thought of Baekhyun feeling his pulse at his temples, his jaw, blood rushing beneath those light fingertips.

“I never noticed your ears.” Baekhyun chuckles and his hands move deftly across Chanyeol’s skin to run along his ears and pinch them. “They’re cute.” 

“Sehun calls me Yoda, but that’s okay because I call him Grinch. That way we’re two green weirdos.” Sober Chanyeol is crying like a banshee in the corner of his mind, but Baekhyun thankfully laughs loudly and shakes his head with something that Chanyeol oddly labels as a fond smile. 

What the fuck? Since when did Chanyeol label guys’ smiles as _fond_ or their _twinkling eyes_ or wondering how those slender fingers would feel on him? Since when did he freak-out over a simple laugh, or get completely thrown out of whack when the decided option of pleasing starts glitching, or even start imagining song lyrics with sappy words like “heartbeat” and “warm hands” when faced with an interesting man? 

Absolutely nothing makes sense, nothing about anything tonight is normal, and Chanyeol keeps glancing towards Sehun and Jongin’s noses brushing as they share private smiles, hands on one another’s waist - and the straight musician wonders if they had the same strange symptoms of erratic heartbeats and panicked proximity back when nothing between them made sense. 

He’s probably just overthinking. 

“I’ll pay for the next round.” He decides, clearing his throat and calling the bartender for whatever bitter poison they can pour him for a minute of drunken oblivion. 

The shot is a punch to Chanyeol’s throat, and this time Baekhyun is also too busy choking to wipe the tears streaming down Chanyeol’s face from the shot of disinfectant from a pretty bottle. 

“That was probably a bad idea.” Baekhyun gasps, retching. Chanyeol stretches his mouth and tongue a couple times as though trying to gag away the leftover taste from his teeth. 

“Holy shit that was really was bad.” Chanyeol laughs, brain ringing inside his skull like a church-bell. 

“Okay, just give me a minute, I thiiiink I lost my sober-ness somewhere here…” Baekhyun says as he eyes the bottom of his empty glass with a frown, “Yep, I think we’ve done it Watson; we’re finally drunk. Or like, I think we are. I am. Well, no - I’m not really drunk you know? But like, I could totally walk straight, and be really normal, right.” Baekhyun nods, somehow confirming his own hypothesis. 

Chanyeol giggles - oh man his hungover-self is going to have a blast tomorrow morning by screaming at himself, that is if he manages to remember anything - and raises his hand for a high-five. Baekhyun almost misses, but they laugh it off and spend the rest of the evening talking music, slurring lyrics, and sometimes dancing wishes. 

~

Kris’ car smells like worn leather and pine freshener. The window fogs when Tao brushes his nose against it as he watches the street-lights flicker by. 

“You can turn on the radio, if you want.” Kris breaks the silence. 

Tao hesitates but turns back to the window. “I think I’ve had enough music for tonight. I don’t mind silence.”

“Who would have thought.” Kris tries a smile. 

“That I’m not a superficial drama queen? Shocker, right?” Tao snaps.

“Not really, I know you’re more than makeup and stage lights and tantrums, trust me on that. I wouldn’t be driving you to my place if you weren’t.”

The words make Tao’s chest tighten with a little cord of hope, but he covers it up by glancing to his side as he teases. “Oh my that almost sounded dirty, Kris. What are you planning for me?”

Kris chuckles. “And there he is. Well, my plans do include bedsheets and dim lights. Do with that information what you please.”

Kris parks in front of a dark apartment building and the pair get out of the car. It’s just a joke, he knows it is, and it really shouldn’t make Tao lose his breath in the way it does as his mind wanders exactly to where Kris’ curled grin plays. Kris accompanies Tao to his door just on the second floor. 

“I have a toothbrush for you, by the way.” 

Tao smiles. “Spare toothbrush and all? So prepared for other people, I’m impressed.”

Kris shrugs with a grin as he unlocks his door. “Not as much as I’d like to, but I guess it’s a start. Welcome to the bartender’s lair.” He opens the door for Tao. It’s of modest size but a grander reflection of the salary; a small couch in a cut salon, opening up to a clean kitchen, and two doors for what Tao assumes to be bedroom and bathroom. Tao has taken off his shoes, but he notices that Kris has kept his on.

Kris has moved over to one of the doors which he presents as the bathroom; rectangular, blue - Tao will admit, he didn’t see much of it besides the new pink toothbrush in Kris’ impressively large hands. Tao jokes about it being used already by Kris’ old hookups, but is somewhat shocked when Kris turns an unexpected shade of red and let out a nervous chuckle before moving on to open the bedroom. 

Everything is surprisingly clean for a single man on his own, and Tao applauds him for that. The duvet is only a little rumpled and there are a couple things on the floor but Kris rushes to pick them up before Tao can comment. It makes the dancer laugh. Kris smiles in return and helps him place his work-bag on a chair, assuring him that he can sleep in his sweatpants. Tao yawns and asks for Kris to show him how the shower works. The latter seems worried at Tao’s drooping eyes but shows him the simple knobs and hands him a towel. Kris’ watch glints in the light and he curses when he sees the time.

“Tao, I’m really sorry but I have to go back and finish my shift, but it’s past one and you seem really out of it. Take a shower and go to sleep, I’ll be back in two hours. Text me if you need anything. The kitchen is easy to find things-”

“Kris, it’s fine. Thank you, really. You have a really nice place, I’m fine. You go finish your job, you’ve been distracted for long enough.” Tao reassures him. Kris sighs and opens his mouth to agree, when he sees the open cut and bruise on Tao’s cheek. He shakes his head and goes to the cabinet to pull out a couple basic aids. 

Tao rolls his eyes and covers his cheek with his hand. “What - Oh come on, I’m fine-”

“Stay still.” Kris says, gripping Tao’s sharp chin with one hand, already starting to clean the wound with some alcohol. Tao hisses but Kris holds him in place, gently shushing him. Tao is almost embarrassed; Kris’ face is too close, features too tempting in the soft light, hand warm on his jaw, brows furrowed in concentration. He’s quickly done disinfecting and proceeds to put some strange cream on his fingertips, hand still holding Tao’s chin. 

“Close your eyes.” 

Tao clenches his jaw to rebuke the immediate shivers running down his spine at his deep voice as he closes his eyes to Kris’ trust. He winces when he feels the cold cream being gently rubbed into his bruise. It’s almost like makeup, except for it’s being done by a makeup artist whose hands are meant for large whiskey bottles, whose soft breathing fans against his cheek. 

Kris does his best to be as gentle as possible with the arnica, and he bites his lip when Tao flinches at the couple harsher presses. His jaw is cut clean, yet his skin is soft as it rests in his hand. He trusts him. They’ve had their share of fun and sad club stories to tell, but this one by far is the one which has made him question everything so much more. Like how he thinks that Tao looks unbearably soft in his clothes, how he somehow still seems to be molded from liquid gold - even when bruised and dragged away from the glittering spotlights.

Kris has finished evening the cream, but he continues lightly brushing the lines of his eyes - some half-assed excuse to keep admiring the slight quivering of his lashes. Tao’s lips too are resolutely sealed to keep his stone-set composure. Kris’ thumb moves from his chin to gently swipe over them -

Tao’s eyes fly open and he’s startled backwards. The dancer’s expression whirls through lightning emotions. Kris has already turned back to putting the supplies into the cabinet, hoping his hands aren’t shaking as much as his racing heart. Tao’s ribcage feels too tight for his lungs, his head reeling with the strange touch ghosting his skin. 

“That should help clear the cut, and ease up the bruise. I’ve got to get going, but feel free to eat, shower, and sleep in the bed - the couch is too small and don’t you dare worry about me. You could use a good rest - there’s not much noise around here…” Kris clears his throat and checks his watch for something other than those sculpted features, perplexed expression. “So, yeah. I’ll see you later.”

Kris only returns the confused wave behind his back before speed-walking to his car outside. 

Tao closes his eyes to listen to the heavy, fast-paced footsteps until they trail away under the stairs, a moment of silence before the faint sound of a car engine purrs and is soon extinguished by the night. 

He undresses, steps into the shower and lets the warm water pour down his shoulders. He finds himself tracing his lips, imagining the steam as the soft breath on his cheek. Kris had never been so gentle with him before. The way he held his chin, his hands gently rubbing at his wounds. Kris dragging him away from further fights, keeping a silent eye on him was probably the closest Tao has ever been to having a guardian angel. Tao’s clouded reason perhaps dared to mould an illusion of care, emotion, love.

“But it’s probably nothing.” Tao says out-loud, voice pitifully breaking. Because it breaks him to the core to say the truth. Kris is straight. Tao is gay. Kris mixes alcohol and takes money from drunken men with their clothes on. Tao rolls his hips and begs for bills from the aftermath of the bar’s garbage-lust. Kris could never truly fall for him. Nobody ever could. He’s just sass, sex and show.

People like him aren’t supposed to _feel_ the way Kris makes him feel because Tao’s life source doesn’t allow anything more than emotionless sex, fast cash and quick goodbyes, and here he is fantasizing about love, priceless moments and never ending hellos like some dreamy high-schooler. It hurts and disgusts him to think about being trapped in this fluorescent cycle until his muscles sag and lines etch his skin until he’s an unappetizing dried leaf, crushed beneath society’s newest youth without a single anchor to hold him down, to give him soft sweatshirts and warm showers when is body is racked with sobs.

The disinfectant is washed away with the shower, with Tao’s tears.

 

Kris’ knuckles color from red to white as he clenches the steering wheel. Why is it different this time? How can it be that he can feel so much more in the sparse apartment, white light and large clothes rather than immersed in club lights, alcohol, and everything else which spikes the senses? He’s so used to seeing the dancer with fire in his eyes - take the few rare moments when they did share a sad adventure or two. 

But back there… Why did Kris want to hug him, kiss his cheeks, protect him with a blanket? Do I have a lost mom-soul inside me? The idea was stupid but Kris was running through his thoughts faster than this highway to even laugh at them. One after another, questions, mathematical analysis of the rate of his heartbeat - too many thoughts washing his sense away until he realizes he’s arrives at the club. He violently shakes his head and gives a quick exhale; he has to work now. Tao will be sleeping when he gets back in three hours. 

“Whatever. It’s probably nothing.” He breathes, locking his car and going back into the overwhelming assault of the senses to find that same numbness in clinking glasses and pouring poisons until his watch glints once again.

~

Kris is greeted by three tall and two short, drunk men. 

“Glad to see the place is still intact after you five.” Kris teases, hanging his coat.

“Please, we’re the ones keeping it intact. Trust me.” Suho nods, holding his new girl from the waist behind. The girl nods too and seems to slumber against his chest. Funny, because Sehun and Jongin are the same picture, only taller.

“You’ve been gone for aaaages and Sehun didn’t want to leave until he was sure of you and Taooo.” Jongin whines into Sehun’s neck. Sehun steadies Jongin before himself, and lightly smacks the back of his head. Jongin protests by biting his neck and pinching his sides. 

“Tao’s fine. I cleaned up his cut a bit, he’s taking a shower, and will probably be asleep when I go back after the end of my shift.” Kris says a little loudly. Sehun pushes Jongin’s face away and is about to thank him when Chanyeol lunges into the picture, Suho cursing as he does.

“Woah, man, bartender bro, did you get into a fight? That was awesome! Could have totally made that new drama season thing!”

Kris laughs. “Yeah, the other guy had it pretty bad, just hope for him there aren’t any scruffs on the floor.”

“Damn that rocks! how much do you bench man? I did about 250 last week-” Chanyeol starts puffing his chest but Baekhyun stops him before he can roll up his sleeves.

“250 what? Flowers?” Baekhyun grins. Chanyeol wrinkles his nose. “No, flowers are gay, man. I do all those solid weights in the far corner that only real Hulks can do.” 

Baekhyun sticks out his tongue and starts tickling Chanyeol. “Oh really… do real Hulks also scream like that?” Chanyeol is having tickle spasms and is screaming in all kinds of off-key falsettos, and just manages to wheeze out: “Only in bed, babe.” 

Oddly enough, Baekhyun seems to actually falter for a split second before he snorts: “That must be a major turnoff.” 

“You wish.” Chanyeol starts to ruffle his hair and the two get into a small scuffle as they pinch at each other’s sides. Jongin gives them a knowing look, tugging on Sehun’s arm - who shakes his head. “I think it’s time to go.”

Jongin groans in relief and grabs Baekhyun and Chanyeol by the collar like two kittens, and the three start to stumble somewhere towards the exit. Sehun is about to follow, almost trips on a stool, but then remembers something and turns to Kris.

“Oh, about Tao… right. I wanted to say…” His lips are a little numb from alcohol as well, so as he’s tapping his chin he decides to wave it off. “I mean, I was going to say be gentle with him, or whatever, but you’re fine. You’ll work things out.”

Kris smiles, that knot in his stomach tightening just a little. “I’ll do my best. You should get back to your man over there.” Kris nudges his chins towards Jongin who’s busy finding Chanyeol’s favorite Supreme coat. Sehun chuckles. 

“Will do. Same goes for you, Kris.” He winks before going to tap Junmyeon’s shoulder to break him from his little club date. 

Kris watches Sehun leave in the thinning crowd of people. The music is still too loud, the lights are still too flashy, and the stage is too empty without the club’s best stripper. “You should get back to your man” “Same goes for you”  
There’s a ball in his throat as he goes behind the bar, but he swallows a glass of water and reaches for the cold bottles of liquor to let himself drown words in work for another three hours. 

Junmyeon has his tongue down the girl’s throat when Sehun taps his shoulder without a word. They break apart, giggling. Sehun tells him something about leaving, and finding them near the exit. Disappointment swoops Junmyeon’s chest like a cold wind and Seulgi’s fingers curl into his shoulder with a pout. He pulls her in for a sweeter hug, his hand low on her waist when he tries to find a solution.

“I’m not really a one-night stand kind of guy… so can we exchange numbers? And maybe… do something together somewhere with better light?” Junmyeon thinks he’s said the same word three times, but Seulgi pulls back and he can just see her pearly whites smiling at him. “Junmyeon… are you asking me out on a date?” 

“I think so, yes.”

“I’d love to.” She nuzzles into his neck and Junmyeon panics when he thinks she’s fallen asleep on his shoulder. “Uh, so where are your friends?” 

She blinks and he feels her move her arm to point towards the far left corner. Junmyeon silently curses, but gently starts moving her to the group of four girls giggling at a table of empty glasses with two other guys. They all stop and narrow their eyes at Junmyeon before one with red hair shouts; “Oh my goooddd finally Seulgi’s back!! You didn’t like... touch her, did you? I’ll really kill you if you did, but I’m kind of tired right now.” The girl sighs, flopping back down on one of the guy’s happy lap. 

Junmyeon is a little shaken when he answers “No I didn’t touch her, I swear. But I have to go now, so I hope she’ll be okay with you guys again.” He slowly starts pulling Seulgi away from his shoulders to help her sit on a chair. She whines and tugs at his shirt, eyes still closed. He kneels to carefully detach her fingers one by one, folding them in her lap, brushing her hair away from her face. He calls her name, fumbling for something in his small pocket when she opens her eyes once more. 

“I’m going to let you sleep now, but I had a really great time tonight. I’d love to see you again, so call me, please.” He pecks her cheek and gently closes her fist around his business card; comes in handy even if it makes him look like a rich prick. She nods and smiles and turns her head to give him a last kiss on the lips, mumbling something like a goodbye.

Junmyeon turns to look at her group of friends who have all their glazed eyes on him. He clears his throat. Sehun and Jongin are probably waiting for him. 

“So… she’s really cool and cute, and I had fun so…” Junmyeon can’t find proper words in the lake of liquor which pools his brain, but he can hear a distinct shout of JUNMYEON WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU coming from Jongin’s slurred mouth, so he waves the group of friends goodbye saying a quick “Please let her call me!” before running off through the crowd.

“Goddammit Myeon were u asking her dad’s approval to marry you or something?” Jongin groans, tossing the latter his Burberry coat. 

“Dude I had all her friends looking at me like I had three heads.”

Jongin snickers. “So, did you get a good suck?”

“I gave her my business card because she fell asleep.” Junmyeon sighs and has to catch Jongin from falling as he doubles over in laughter. 

“Man she’s going to think you’re paying her to date you.” Jongin wheezes.

“I hope I’m not that sad.”

“Up to her.” Jongin laughs as they finally find Sehun waiting outside the limo down the street. 

Sehun is busy lighting a cigarette; tall, slim, gorgeous as a black and white photo in Jongin’s colorful lense; white skin shadowed by sharp cheekbones, falling black hair as he arches his head back to exhale blue smoke, edges of cartilage running up his throat like cut glass; Jongin could kiss him until he bleeds.

Jongin is suddenly right against his chest, hands on his waist as he breathes alcohol on Sehun’s neck. “Mine.”

Sehun chuckles and brings the cigarette to his lover’s lips. Jongin catches it with his teeth instead, and it takes him a minute to remember how to inhale and exhale the smoke behind Sehun. The blue smoke after a wild night almost reminds Jongin of that New Year’s evening, the first time they spoke of risky games on his friend’s balcony. 

“We risked a lot tonight.” Sehun hums, running a palm down Jongin’s belt. 

“Yeol and Baek are our friends. I trust them.” 

“Okay.” Sehun tilts his chin up for a kiss, the cigarette burning like a star next to Jongin’s hair, Sehun’s palm boiling heat on Jongin’s abdomen. 

“You two open the fucking door already, Chanyeol keeps holding the handle.” Junmyeon’s loud whine on the other side breaks them apart. Sehun giggles and tosses the cigarette on the street, not even half finished. Jongin slumbers off Sehun to let him open the door and let a tired Junmyeon push them out of the way to get inside and start hitting Chanyeol.

Sehun pushes Jongin inside like a child, but he gets quickly dragged along by the means of his expensive sleeve. They all tumble on the suede seats with multiple giggles and groans before arranging themselves a little more properly. 

“Alright rock paper scissors we go to Myeon’s house, cuz we waited for him.” Jongin shouts and Sehun already has his fist whacking Chanyeol’s peace sign away with a triumphant grin. Junmyeon is gaping like a fish and tries to grab Sehun’s arm from telling the chauffeur his adresse. He’s sadly too slow, and Jongin doesn’t miss tapping Sehun’s ass before he sits down again.

“Anybody fucking throws up, they’re paying to replace the entire floor.” Junmyeon snaps and Baekhyun’s eyes widen as he fakes a vomiting scene, ending in side-splitting laughter on Chanyeol.

Jongin laughs. “Come on Myeon, it’s only fair; I finally got you a date.”

“If I should be thanking anybody for meeting Seulgi, it’s Tao. Also, I’m only letting all of you share two rooms; the others aren’t ready.”

“Works for me.” Sehun grins as Jongin flops his back against his side, and wraps an arm around his waist. 

Baekhyun wrinkles his nose at the pair. “I’m really confused but really too drunk to ask any questions. But that’s really gay.”

Jongin snorts, curling closer to Sehun. “I’d hope so.”

Baekhyun is quite the chatterbox, drunk. “No, really. I mean, like I’m pretty sure I saw you two grinding on the dance floor. Sehun, is Jongin giving you a boner like that? He’s really sitting on your lap like this you know -” Baekhyun seriously starts to clamber onto Chanyeol’s lap with the determination to show Sehun exactly the matter of the situation.

Chanyeol yelps and tries to remove Baekhyun but the little fucker is surprisingly heavy and it’s not great for a certain part of the idol’s body which tends to over activate after one too many drinks. Baekhyun rips his hands away to hiss:

“Shut up Chanyeol, I’m doing a science project.”

Jongin and Sehun are wheezing from laughter at the musician’s panicked state, and Sehun is smirking when he takes Jongin’s chin and says; “Baekhyun, I’m confused what this is, can you explain?” , before brining Jongin to his lips in a deep kiss. Jongin gasps from the PDA in front of their friends, and he can feel himself burning red when they break apart. Chanyeol’s jaw has fallen open and Baekhyun is frowning. 

“That’s a kiss you dimwit. It’s really gross when you two do it. Look -” Baekhyun turns suddenly and Chanyeol just barely moves his face out of the way. The whole mess ends up with Baekhyun’s lips on his neck instead, Chanyeol’s hands on his shoulder, and Jongin will never let him live down the surprised moan which espaces his lips when Baekhyun is either confused or stubborn and starts lazily mouthing at his neck, teeth barely scraping the skin.

Oh god. It’s not like a tiny part of Chanyeol has been somewhat thinking of this since that stripper scene, but god all the rest of him knows he’s not fucking gay, not even for Baekhyun’s stupid science projects. He pushes Baekhyun away with all the force he can muster. Unfortunately, it’s just during a turn which causes Baekhyun to hurtle violently across the seats and almost hit the wall if Chanyeol hadn’t caught him and pulled him back to him again. Chanyeol curses the rebound effect as Baekhyun curls in his arms with a pout. “You’re really confusing, Chanyeol.”

“Yeah, bitch.” Chanyeol says a little out of breath. 

On the other side, Jongin gives him a small smile and pulls Sehun closer to him. Chanyeol shakes his head. “My fucking sexuality is on the line but just know that you’re definitely going to have to explain tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow is another day.” Sehun says, running his fingers across Jongin’s neck.

Chanyeol grunts and looks down at Baekhyun half-sitting of his lap; his face is close enough for Chanyeol to count his pretty lashes between the passing streetlights, the fading kohl reminding him of his late nights after wild concerts and panting adrenaline, softened by the quiet sheets - too close.  
But Baekhyun lets his head roll into the nape of Chanyeol’s neck, his lips in a small smile when the straight idol has to pull him closer in a more comfortable position to avoid too much sliding. Jongin throws him kissy faces to which Chanyeol mouths a silently loud string of profanities. 

“I need more straight friends.” Junmyeon grumbles from his lonely corner. Jongin laughs and removes himself a little to place a hand on his knee. 

“Not our fault you didn’t take her home. You’re too nice Myeonnie.”

“I know.” 

“Jongin come back I’m cooooold.” Sehun whines, pulling his boyfriend back to him to nuzzle in his neck. Jongin giggles like the drunk idiot he is. “Sorry Myeonnie.”

“Your nicknames get worser by the day.”

“You spelled that wrong.” Chanyeol frowns. 

“My mouth doesn’t autocorrect, you dick.” Junmyeon huffs. Chanyeol raises his hands in surrender and almost lets a sleeping Baekhyun fall to the ground. 

“Goddammit I’m not sober enough and your house is too fucking far.” Chanyeol groans as he awkwardly readjusts Baekhyun in his lap, careful to avoid any pressure on - fuck Baekhyun who just splayed his hands against his chest and nestled himself right there. The musician clenches his teeth and tries to stay as rigid still as possible. Baekhyun, in his slumber state, apparently notices, and pokes Chanyeol’s chest to murmur in his ear: “Relax you big idiot.”

“I’m not an idiot.” Chanyeol slurs, but relaxing his body a little nonetheless. It finally allows Baekhyun to curl far closer into his chest, but Chanyeol is finally too tired to care to to even snap a curse at Jongin, focuses instead on letting his arms wrap around the small man and hopefully ignore that sweet pressure somewhere low between his hips.

 

The car finally comes to stop after what seems to be years or minutes after Junmyeon closed his eyes; but clearly too long, judging by the way his chauffeur has to gently tug at his sleeve to wake the others. Baekhyun crawls off Chanyeol, leaving the latter groaning about his dead leg. 

Sehun and Jongin are second to stumble out of the car into Junmyeon’s way-too-clean garage to make their way up the foyer, the living room, behind the stairs, bedroom - it’s really too far and they’re already giggling and loosing their numb footing at the weird cactus Junmyeon keeps on the windowsill, and they get as far as the foyer when Jongin topples and pins Sehun to the wall, their mouths colliding in a drunk, open kiss. Sehun’s palms sweep his chest, neck, hair while Jongin pushes him deeper into the wall with a hot, languid tongue on his and firm grip on his hips. 

Junmyeon curses and rips Jongin from his far too fun PDA, hissing about Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s PTSD bills as he drags the drunk CEO straight through the grand living-room, around the corner before tossing him on the guest bed, saying he’ll give Sehun a riddle to let him find him. Jongin groans into a pillow and kicks his feet, mumbling something about alcohol and dicks.

Chanyeol crashes in the next room with a small businessman attached to his arm like a koala. The toll alcohol take on his corpse is immediate, knocking him into too rough a sleep to even change clothes or shake off the warm hands on his arm,so that’s probably how Junmyeon turns off the light and closes the door on the two figures curled up and snoring on the bed. 

Junmyeon, himself, crashes on the soft couch not too far off, somehow falling asleep before he’s traumatized by the soft, unsurprising moans coming from one of the rooms (his riddle was far too easy). The clock said 4am before his bleary eyes, ticking the close of a long celebration to a successful fashion week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hellooo i hope you all liked this chapter which focused a bit more on all the other pairings because I've been aching to do a Club!Taoris AU for agess and i just had to have fun with this ugh i love them tf? Also what do you think about that little Chanbeak going on? cute? gay? straight? date? tell me what you'd love for the suite and I'll do my best to keep updating as often as possible!   
> Thank you for reading! <3


	16. Morning glow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't dare dream  
> Grasp your chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for those who are still reading, for your time and patience! I hadn't realized how long I had taken to update until I saw the comments and dates, so I really promise to try to integrate this story writing during my daily routine and do my best to finish and update!
> 
> Hope you enjoy this new chapter then!

Kris had come home just as the blanket of navy sky had started to erase its stars and lighten into a blue blush. His head was heavy with fatigue, but when he stepped inside, he realized he still had to figure out where to sleep. He took two steps towards the bedroom door, then two steps back to the couch; a slow, hesitant pace before he sighed and lay on the couch in his looser boxers, long limbs and broad shoulder hardly a comfortable fit on the narrow furniture. He endured maybe half an hour of insufferable positions before he huffed a curse, stood up and walked with determined stride to sleep, straight to his bedroom. He only slowed as he gently turned the door knob, before continuing his cut path through the dark room towards the small space on the bed which seemed unclaimed yet by the comfortably sleeping dancer. Kris flopped on the mattress, barely registering the soft light starting to hush the edges, shadows on the duvet curving up to a shut-eyed frown, an incoherent grumble tugging the sheets back before sleep hit him like a dead-weight.

Tao is stirred awake with a wide yawn, stretching and blinking in confusion when his elbow nudges something else than a duvet. He turns over and almost shoots out of the bed when he sees Kris’s closed, sleeping features lining into a frown as he buries his head into the pillow and blinks up at Tao. He was close enough for his breath to heat the back of Tao’s neck, his arms resting somewhat near his back. Tao holds his breath, but is winded when the bartender’s face pulls into an unbearably shy smile. 

“You sleep a lot?” Tao’s voice comes out with an embarrassing morning crack, but Kris grins back. 

“Not all of us get to leave work early.” His voice is at least an octave deeper than usual and fuck it’s something which Tao could to listen for hours to, curled up inside his chest like a warm haven. But of course, he has to click his tongue and play back.

“Yeah, not all of us get to be dragged out of work to forcibly go to sleep.”

“You make me sound like a kidnapper.”

“Maybe you are.”

“You’re welcome for the bed, Tao.” Kris closes his eyes, smile still gently traced upon his lips as his breathing regulates back into a slow sleep. Tao’s head is still too heavy to leave the bed, so he adjusts the duvet back over Kris’s shoulder, accidentally getting close enough for their bare chests to hold a pen between them. Kris moves his arms to let Tao maneuver around him - eyes still closed - but the dancer is too flushed and afraid of his beating heart to curl closer - so he turns his back to the latter, squeezing his eyes shut, blotting out any other hopeful fantasy as he fell back asleep, the warm hand on his shoulder and skin against his back threading through his dreams. 

When Tao opens his eyes again, the bed is empty. A minute of bleary confusion, puzzling reality and visions piece by piece, before Tao draws the lines between the two, and notices the half-open door. He rolls out of bed and heads to take a shower, enjoying the cold water to clear his mind, sharpen the edges of his clouded emotions. When he steps out, he checks himself in the mirror for good measure. He almost reels at the ugly asymmetry on his face due to the blooming blue underneath his right eye. He finds himself tracing his lips, passing over the dried crack on the left, his mind flashing back to Kris’s fingertip instead of his own. Tao turns away from the mirror, his hand clutching the towel at his waist instead. 

He goes back to the room, find his (Kris’s) sweatpants on the floor, and grabs a plain t-shirt from the dresser (he’s already borrowed his shower, sweatpants and bed, what’s another shirt?). A sweet smell pulls a rummaging emptiness from his stomach so he finally decides to go to the kitchen. Sure enough, the barternder’s tall, lanky figure is busy at the counter, cutting up what seems to be a red fruit on the wood.

“I thought you were tired.” Tao says. Kris turns to him with wide eyes, running a hand through his bed-hair. 

“I had to make sure my guest slept well.”

“You could have slept on the couch then.”

Kris raises an eyebrow. “Oh so now I’m not allowed to claim my own bed? I even let you have the covers, my shower, my sweatpants…”

“Alright, I guess I’ll let you have that one point.”

“Good morning to you too, by the way.”

Tao winks in response and leans against the fridge. Kris assembles a small plate of various fruits, also carrying a bag of cereal to the dining table between his teeth before Tao can offer to help. 

“Well, since you seem to prefer being a dog then letting me help, where are your mugs so I can have some of that coffee?” Tao starts opening a cupboard of plates when he hears Kris chuckle from behind him, a suddenly, oddly familiar warmth protecting his back. Kris takes his wrist to open the second cupboard, revealing a shelf of glasses and mugs gleaming in the sunlight. Kris’s big hand seems as though it’s sliding up, still guiding Tao’s towards a mug, his shoulders feeling as though they’re hunched over him, closer, warmer, other arm pressed against his.

“You’re clingy this morning.”

A soft chuckle fans the back of his neck. “I like having company around.” Then the warm pressure is gone, and Tao closes his eyes for a second. “It’s different… nice.” Kris speaks from the table now, pouring steaming black liquid into the mug opposite; the one Tao had chosen. Tao sits and nods thanks, reaching for the pieced apple.

“Do you get lonely sometimes?” 

“That sounds more like a question you’re asking yourself.” Kris gives him a smile, but it seems grey and sad in the morning light. Tao picks at the fruit’s red skin. 

“I guess it is.”

“We’re pretty similar, actually; you and me.”

“I’m a stripper, you’re a bartender. I’m an orphan, you’re not. We’re not similar, Kris.” Tao voice feels like it should be cracking, those words which he hadn’t been aware of, burning his tongue with the steam of last night’s pitiful shower, last night’s fleeting touch, finally breaking out on the table for display.

“We’re both alone, we both serve people who we sometimes really don’t want in our faces, we’re both pretty fit - you more than me -, and we both like black coffee.” Kris nudges his mug, popping a slice of orange in his mouth. Tao can’t tell whether that skip in his chest is from the caffeine or the latter’s words. Of course, he already knows the answer when the sunlight catches a sweet curve of Kris’s cheekbone, his sharp nose - black eyes. 

“I guess.” Tao sips at his mug, eyes focused on the bowl of fruit.

A small smile threatens to tug at Kris’s lips. They eat in silence for a minute, somewhere between awkward and comfortable, until Kris’s gaze drifts over to his couch in the far corner. 

“Damn I really need a new couch.”

Tao turns to judge the furniture himself. “It doesn’t look too awful.”

“Trust me, if I had slept there last night, I would have woken up with six bones needing replacement.”

“Ouch.”

“I think I’ll buy a new one today. I was going to buy groceries anyways.”

Tao chuckles. “Food and furniture. Sounds fun. I actually think I saw some furniture sales at that one corner shop this Wednesday. Stuff looked pretty nice, too.” He says, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. 

Kris didn’t have the slightest clue as to which corner shop Tao was referring to, and somehow, he didn’t want lifeless directions written on a scrap paper. 

“Sounds like a good place to keep in mind - why don’t you come with? It’ll be easier to find.” Kris is quick to add: “unless you have other plans, of course, that’s fine too.”

Tao’s mind is racing for a couple excuses to maybe not go; because something so sickeningly domestic and sweet with Kris can’t possibly be real, it can’t possibly happen on the spin of desire, it can’t possibly go right.   
But it does.

From the second Tao blurts out a “Sure” , Kris’s eyes crinkle in the corner like a daisy’s roots; there to stay for the rest of the day. When Tao realizes with an annoyed groan that he doesn’t have any clothes suitable for public appearance, Kris’s tongue doesn’t hesitate to say: “You look fine in my sweatpants. It’s nice.” - which was sweet and made Tao nearly blush - but the dancer still made him promise to also go out in basic clothes as well.  
When Kris was walking backwards and almost hit an old lady in the store, it was Tao’s quick hand on his shoulder which pulled him back with a light laugh - maybe running down his arm as he let go in favor of hesitating over the various kinds of plant-based milk. Kris rolled his eyes and slung an arm over his shoulder to reach for the whole cows milk instead, earning a small scuffle in the aisle before they walked out with a basket full of vegetables, meats, almond milk and one bottle of fine japanese whiskey as a compromise. 

When Tao hopped on the couches, springing like a happy child, Kris tried to nudge him to quiet down, before grinning and joining in to test the springs in the pillows, as well as glancing discreetly at the chopped price. They (well, really Tao with Kris’s accord) , finally decided on a black cushion couch, a simple medium size, with enough class and leg features to please. At the register, Tao did try to pitch in his credit card, before Kris sent him a death glare, swiping his card right out of his hand to be confiscated. Besides, Tao had already learned that that death glare knew no boundaries. 

After having filled out minimal paperwork, Kris informed Tao that the couch would arrive next week, so they headed home early. Tao was busy brushing his teeth for the second time that day, when Kris noticed him wince as the brush passed over his lip a bit, white fluoride probably burning his cut. Kris patiently waited for him to finish before he stepped inside to grab the arnica and some lip balm. Tao rolled his eyes and chuckled, saying he was fine. Kris gestured for him to come closer anyway. Tao was silent, but letting himself ease into Kris’s hands better than the night before, a small smile curving his lip as Kris tapped the arnica lightly on his eyelid. His right hand was still cupping the dancer’s jaw, whose eyes darted to a fixed point behind the latter’s earring to avoid the closeness, the light touch feathering down to his lip. His heart was in his throat, almost floating past his tongue, on the fingertip dotting his cut. They were so close, it would take so little for one of them to lean in -   
Tao’s eyes verged to the latter’s face, and his insides twisted when he realized Kris had been looking right at him the entire time. They were both caught, close, warm touch already so sweet -

But Tao was the one to gently lower Kris’s hand from his face. Hope wouldn’t do him any good: it was already poisoning his thoughts, twisting his lungs in slow, torturous dreams.   
When Kris let him keep his clothes to get back, Tao thanked him with a smile.   
When Tao closed the car door, Kris’s knuckles colored from white to red, the sun slimming into a black thread on the horizon. 

 

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

 

Chanyeol wakes up to a howling skull and a small thing pressed against his side. One minute to open his eyes with a painful groan, five to digest his location in the space time continuum, ten to scramble for memories of last night - and seconds to finally notice the actual identity of the person sleeping next to him. He’s counted at least fifty times the same scenario, except for the person was usually naked, had boobs and long hair. Least to say, his sexuality wasn’t ready to admit that the person this time was indeed, male, dressed, and fucking adorable.

“Fuck it’s too early for this.” Chanyeol groans to himself, kicking his legs like a stubborn child. Baekhyun makes some small, annoyed noise and tugs on the musician’s sleeve. “Shut up.” mumbles the businessman. 

“You shut up.” Chanyeol retorts with all the tact of a five year-old. 

“You’re dumb. Gimme some covers.” Baekhyun murmurs, eyes still closed as he tries to reach across Chanyeol’s chest for the duvet, fumbling blindly along his biceps, shoulder and pecs. Chanyeol stiffens like a plank before grabbing the duvet and shoving it in Baekhyun’s face. 

“Fucking dickwad. You’re not the only one with a hangover, you know.” Baekhyun smacks his head before rolling to the other side, just a black head of tousled hair in a wrap of bedsheets. Chanyeol frowns at him. Now he’s cold. He debates apologising, and wrapping his arms around the small figure like a soft teddy bear. 

He resists the urge to hit himself in the head with a bottle to rid himself of the stupid hangover as well as those stupid thoughts, and gets up to find a shower. 

“Junmyeon is way too rich.” Chanyeol concludes after spending a solid five minutes trying to figure out the rubix-cube knobs, passing through lava and arctic water for a perfect temperature, small wisps of steam coating his face in sweet warmth, water running down his skin and relieving him for a moment of vivid calm.  
Some memories do pop up here and there, 2 out of 3 of them making him shudder in shame and want to curl up in the corner of warm water and steam and never leave.  
Brief scenes of Baekhyun’s cheekbones in the neon light, clinking glasses, the ringing in his head, Baekhyun’s cheery face far too close to his, the small body nestled in his arms for a long car ride, Sehun and Jongin full on kissing right in front of them -

Right. His two bestfriends were… gay? With each other? And kept it a secret from him? Lied to his face when they all had lunch together? Suddenly the steam seems to seep from his blood, a sinking cold in his stomach something akin to betrayal and disappointment twisting his insides. It was the first time Chanyeol actually ever saw two men kiss right before his eyes, open-mouthed, their hands mimicking all the things Chanyeol would do with girls, now maybe all the things he’d do with -  
No. This has absolutely nothing to do with him. He has to go call out his two friends and make them explain and apologise no matter what. 

He steps out of the shower, fluffs his hair carelessly and only bothers to tie a towel around his waist as he steps out the door which leads straight back to the guest room - and yes that’s Baekhuyn he runs into - still dressed in skinny jeans, silk shirt untucked and loose necklaces in disarray around his slim neck, faint eye-makeup faded around the corner of his eyes, hair far messier than wind-torn dancing - his surprised, confused eyes make him look almost innocent, but hardly an angel when they flick down the musician’s toned stomach, and Chanyeol may or may not have accidentally flexed and ran a hand through his hair to look better. Baekhyun raises a brow and smirks. 

“Not too cold?”

“The shower’s warmer than the bed.” 

“I don’t know, I was pretty comfortable with all the duvets to myself.” Baekhyun eyes the towel low on Chanyeol’s hips and Chanyeol will fucking throw himself off a cliff for the actual shiver which runs up his spine and curls in his stomach, right there, right where Baekhyun’s eyes trail languidly, up his abs, chest, collarbones. 

“Nice tattoos, by the way. Didn’t see them last night. Are they symbolic?” 

Oh, his eyes might have passed his arms too. “Thanks, and yeah.” Chanyeol clears his throat when Baekhyun comes closer to looks at his tattoo. The musician keeps one hand on the towel as some sort of protection for the innocent, small man who only looks at his forearms with curious eyes when Chanyeol explains the monkey and the guitar on his arm - two tattoos easier to show than the two small ones on his hand holding the towel like a lifeline.

Baekhyun awes at the guitar and briefly traces it with a slender finger. Girls have done it plenty of times, and as equally as before, the action brings a smile to his face. They somehow strike up a conversation about body ink, Baekhyun prickling a little when Chanyeol mentions his admiration of Sehun’s back tattoo. 

They must have been standing there for a while because soon enough Chanyeol starts to get cold goosebumps and it’s comically embarrassing when Baekhyun notices his arm shaking, the small pinpricks lining his collarbones, his jaw trembling. 

Baekhyun laughs, “You look like you just took an ice bath.”

“Well I was going to see if I could borrow some of Junmyeon’s clothes, but someone decided to distract me.”

Baekhyun raises is hands in mock surrender. “Sorry I was in your way, chief, but in my defense, I’m a pretty amazing distraction.”

As much as a small part of Chanyeol would actually love to discover exactly how amazing of a distraction Baekhyun can be - his heterosexuality, hungry stomach and cold skin make him shake his head and ruffle the latter’s hair as he moves away to rummage the closet. 

“Worst case scenario, you wear last night’s clothes for another hour until you get back home to change, instead of scraping Junmyeon’s floor for the rest of his Prada collection.” Baekhyun calls from the bathroom. Chanyeol frowns and put his hands on his hips. 

“They stink. Besides, I just found some sweatpants… shit they’re S.” Chanyeol groans and Baekhyun laughs around his toothbrush. After he rinses, the latter comes out, snapping up the sweatpants Chanyeol had thrown on the nearby chair. “Good to know, ‘Myeon and I are the same size then.”

“Easy, small people.” Chanyeol mutters, pulling the towel tighter as his body still shakes from the cold, before he says fuck it and send Baekhyun to change in the bathroom while he got back into his party-wasted clothes. 

Five minutes later, they’re both trudging into the way-too-bright hallway - Baekhyun in a pair of slim track-pants, a skinny t-shirt across his chest, Chanyeol looking like a lost celebrity who fell asleep at a party and woke up in a stranger’s house - the pair being drawn to the sound of pleasant chatter coming from the door past the white sofa.

“Morning, you two - oh, nice pants, Baekhyun. You’re welcome, then.” Junmyeon greets them with surprising energy - for the bags under his eyes give away maybe 4 hours of sleep - as he flips an omelette. Sehun and Jongin are both sitting at the table, interrupting their conversation to laugh and greet morning to the new duo. 

The two CEOs are too handsome for the morning hangover which is raging on Chanyeol’s skull, his throat dry and lips cracked compared to the other two who are practically glowing, their lips red and dare Chanyeol imagine those to be hickeys on Jongin’s chest slipping beneath his shirt because they’re gay and lied to him. And something inside Chanyeol snaps.

“You two.” Chanyeol points at them, rage mounting within him by the second. “You two are my closest friends.” Jongin is looking at him with wide, confused eyes, but Chanyeol doesn’t care if it’s too early, he needs to know everything, right now.   
“I’ve written music for you, told you about almost every one of my flings, hell Sehun I’ve fucking cried in front of you before - and I have to go to a club and get drunk to realize that my two closest friends have been dating for fuck knows how long, literally sticking their dick into each other behind my back. When were you planning on telling me, Sehun? Were you even going to tell me anything?”

Sehun has stood up, morning smile gone in a fury to his friend’s accusations. “Chanyeol, you need to fucking calm down. Did we run and hide from you last night? No. Also -”

“One night - because you two were too drunk to bother hiding - can’t fucking fix or explain that lunch we had together, you two smiling and pretending to be straight, hell, even acting ‘professional’ the entire time, you homos watched me drool over girls without a comment, nothing like ‘hey, we’re fucking, by the way’. You were lying to my face this entire time when I trusted you -”

“We’re dating, Chanyeol; actual, maintaining a relationship, which is more than you could ever say with all your fuckbuddies. Just because we’re gay and do it better than you doesn’t give you any right to accuse us.” Sehun snaps, and the comment takes a swing at Chanyeol’s pride, irritated hangover amplifying his rage until he shouts: “That’s not the fucking point! I just want to know why you lied to me! What was so hard about admitting you two were dating to my face?”

“If you were secretly dating a man, do you really think you’d have the guts to say it to your manager? No, because you’d get fucking pulverized, kicked out by the industry faster than a storm. We own companies, Chanyeol. Our employees depend on our image, our actions, and our choices for their salary. If we fuck up, they’re screwed. Literally only Junmyeon knew because I needed someone close-by to vent to when my emotions were messed up for a while.” Jongin sighs, glancing at Junmyeon who had turned off his omelette and was watching with guilty eyes, before the CEO turned back to Chanyeol to try to soften the anger burning in his eyes. 

“You were always on tour, Yeol. The one time I did see you, yes we were already dating, but the three of us met up in public. That goes well for the secrecy of two rival fashion companies; telling their biggest, most taboo secret in a cute restaurant. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you then - and you too Baekhyun. Yes we lied to both of you that day, but our relationship was still way too fresh to risk any potential cuts, even if it was just you two…” Jongin sighs and wrings his hands, “I guess there’s really no excuse for having kept you in the dark. You’re both my friends, and I’m sorry.” Jongin finishes, lowering his head. Sehun is looking at him with a perplexed expression, but Baekhyun speaks before he can. 

“Jesus this is really way too early in the day for all this heavy stuff, but I just want to say how I’m completely on Chanyeol’s side. Jongin, I’ve known you since college. I know you’re bi. I know how much you love fashion. I love you like a baby brother, and I would do anything to protect your happiness, so I’m not going to lie when I say it did hurt to see you two together so freely last night, when just two months ago boths of you did everything to deny any relationship. It’s just… off.” Baekhyun frowns at the latter who rubs the back of his neck. 

“I know… but the thing was mainly I hadn’t seen either of you in so long, it just felt weird to rekindle our friendship by unloading a huge secret on the two of you first thing. I wanted to catch up without having to put any burden on you. I’m really sorry it hurt you that we didn’t tell the truth.”

Chanyeol is clenching his jaw, a sign which Sehun recognises as a trembling vulnerability when he’s stressed. 

“Chanyeol, I’m sorry.” Sehun lowers his head in some professional, business-like apology. Chanyeol hesitates, but brings his friend in for a hug by the shoulders. 

“Don’t treat me like your investors, Sehunnie. I’m sorry, I said some mean shit… it’s just, what the fuck dude? I mean, I was teasing you two, but really joking about it because shit I never thought it would be true. I didn’t even know my best friend was gay and suddenly he’s fu- shit sorry, I mean - dating, my other friend… That’s weird.” Chanyeol chuckles nervously into Sehun shoulder who pulls back to ruffle his hair with a smile. 

“It’s kind of homo.”

Chanyeol feels like he should feel some sort of disgust - being gay in korea was fucking whack - but he only feels a strange twinge in his chest, something like a stirring curiosity - something oddly familiar to the twinge he felt when Baekhyun’s eyes roamed his torso just before.   
Chanyeol coughs himself out of the feeling and laughs with Sehun. “Homo or not, you’re still my baby Grinch.”

“Thanks Yoda.” Sehun pinches his ears, reminding Chanyeol of somebody else’s hands touching his face at a certain bar last night.

“Just… I don’t really know how you want me to be with you guys, like… do you guys talk about dicks and drool over guy celebrities? If you want I can get you a couple idol contacts with this new group; a lot of them are probably gay but their managers are bitches… anyways, uh, yeah, how do you guys work?”

Sehun probably should be offended but Chanyeol is too much like a big, lost puppy to be mad at him, so he laughs instead. “Yeol, we’re just like how we were at the restaurant. We’re still CEOs with plenty of our own contacts, and honestly we don’t really drool over other guys too much; we’ve already got everything we need with each other. We mostly talk about the models, tease each other…” Sehun chuckles, “Just treat us like a normal boy-girl couple, who know way more about fashion and dicks than what you’re used to.”

Chanyeol has to laugh but admire too. “Seems simple then. You two are really whipped for each other, huh?”

“I’d say so, yeah.” Sehun smiles softly. Chanyeol’s stomach always gets drained after long discussions, and voices its gurgling need for food more substantial than liquid cocktails. Junmyeon, who was busying himself in the neutral zone by making a second omelette, lets out a relieved sigh “Finally, I thought I was going to have to throw this pan to make you shut up and sit down. Tea or coffee?”

Chanyeol stutters “Coffee” and takes his seat next to Sehun, feeling like a child who’s just been told to go to the corner. On the other side of the table, Baekhyun and Jongin are talking with hushed whispers, Jongin darting shy glances to Sehun as he talks. Chanyeol ends up switching coffee for water to soothe his dry throat and digging gratefully into Junmyeon’s cheesy omelette, talking with Sehun; both using a distraction to avoid fretting over what those two were talking about.

Baekhyun started out questioning everything about Sehun to make absolutely sure that his friend was in good hands; girl or boy, Baekhyun would take them down if anything happened to his college friend - even if he had been reluctantly absent for a good part of the couple’s misfortunes. 

“He’s your first guy since ESMOD, isn’t he?” Baekhyun finally asked, a little emotion in his voice. 

Jongin nodded. “It’s so different now… Not just party flings and popular rumors, it’s just the two of us, trying to get through a whole different world together. ESMOD was so carefree and fun; this is way harder but so much more worth it.”

Baekhyun smiles. “Remember the first time you hooked up with that guy?”

Jongin laughs and lowers his voice to a whisper. “No shit, like I’d forget my gay virginity night.”

“I remember you practically giving me roses to thank me for that night. What was his name again…?”

“Taemin.” Jongin mumbles and Baekhyun’s face lights up. 

“Oh my god, that’s right! The hot dancer!”

“Moved like a god, too.”

“You came back with stars in your eyes, limping like the luckiest guy in the world.” Baekhyun giggles, poking his side.

“Damn Taemin was great. It sucked when he dropped out to go to dance school, though. We lost contact.” Jongin hums, doing his best to keep the intimate conversation away from the table’s ears.

“But then you went from Taemin to Sehun…” Baekhyun smirks and Jongin rubs the back of his neck.

“Felt like a virgin again even after a decade. I didn’t remember it hurting that much…”

Baekhyun is sent into a fit of giggles at Jongin’s embarrassed pout, ruffling his hair. 

“Ah, Jonginnie, I love you. I guess I’ll forgive you for not telling me. Just know that from now on we better stay in touch, and no more secrets, okay?”

Jongin grins. “Okay, so no more secrets.” He then leans closer with a growing smirk, “So why don’t you tell me about that blush on your cheeks when you’re with a certain musician? Was it nice to fall asleep in his arms?” 

Baekhyun shrieks and hits his head. Jongin starts to laugh and cover his head, but Baekhyun grabs him by the collar to mutter in his ear: “You’ve got ten seconds to serve me a cappucino or Sehun knows about Taemin.”

“Go ahead, it’s not like we still talk.” Jongin challenges.

Baekhyun stiffens. No more secrets with Jongin, sure, but not when the said person was right across the room - not like Baekhyun didn’t want to tell Jongin how hot the musician was, how much of a goofy and cute drunk he was, how Baekhyun might be soft for him already - but he knows Jongin, so he settles for seething: “I don’t blush ; I lighten. And he was the one who held me.”

“You were the one who made out with his neck.” Jongin presses his lips together to resist bursting out in laughter when Baekhyun pales at the information. He… did not remember that…

“I what ?!” Baekhyun whisper-shouts. Jongin laughs and removes Baekhyun’s hand, throwing him a wink as he moves for the countertop. “One cappucino coming up.”

Junmyeon, Sehun and Chanyeol are all staring at them, Baekhyun’s jaw gone slack, his hands trembling with rage as he watches Jongin happily prepare a cup of coffee. 

“Baekhyun-ah, aren’t you hungry?” Chanyeol is carelessly informal as he finishes his omelette, looking up at Baekhyun with a confused expression. Jongin’s back is turned to the table so nobody can see the ear-splitting grin which breaks across his face at the sweet question. Baekhyun, on the other hand, immediately composes himself and raises a brow with an amused smile.

“Why? Are you going to make me an omelette too, Chanyeol-ah?” Baekhyun throws the informal honorific right back at him, to which Chanyeol’s eyes widen and chokes on his water.

“You wish.” 

Baekhyun laughs and asks Junmyeon for any cereal or fruits. 

“You are all really terrible; only fruits and granola snacks. Even dieting I eat more than that.” Junmyeon grumbles as he gets up to find the fresh bread instead.

“Because your abs need big gains, hyung.” Jongin grins, snatching the hem of Junmyeon’s shirt to reveal a strip of rock-hard muscle. 

Chanyeol lets out a low whistle just as Junmyeon slaps Jongin’s hand away to keep cutting the bread. 

“Damn, you’re ripped for a short businessman. Give me your workout schedule, dude.”

“He can’t do that; his abs are only his, and only for cute girls he meets in clubs.” Jongin winks at Junmyeon as he pours Baekhyun’s hot beverage into a small cup. 

“If she even calls.” Junmyeon mumbles.

“The only reason she wouldn’t call was if she lost your card.” Baekhyun reasons.

“Yeah man, she’ll definitely call. Trust my club wisdom on this one.”

“That same club wisdom which had you gone on another planet after two cocktails.” Baekhyun scoffs, taking his seat across as Junmyeon and Jongin bring the food to the table. 

“Cocktails, shots and whiskey! Besides, it’s economical to have a low tolerance.” Chanyeol defends. 

“Says the man wearing Louis Vuitton.” the latter hums, bringing the drink to his lips. 

“Economical or not, I really don’t care as long as neither of you threw up on my floor.” Junmyeon shrugs, peeling an apple.

“I, Park Chanyeol, have never thrown up due to alcohol in my life.” Chanyeol raises a solemn hand. 

Sehun frowns beside him and opens his mouth but immediately closes it in a winded huff when Chanyeol violently nudges his ribs. 

“That hurt, you liar.” Sehun hisses, but Chanyeol slings a happy arm around his shoulders, “A lie for a lie, am I right, buddy?” He says, eyeing Jongin at the same time. 

“Fair enough. Now let me go.” Sehun sighs. Chanyeol removes himself, but not before ruffling his friend’s perfect hair. 

“I liked the blonde on you. But black is cool too. What do you think, Jongin?” Chanyeol asks. 

“Anything looks good on Sehun.” Jongin smirks at his boyfriend, both surely remembering exactly how much Jongin had enjoyed pulling on Sehun’s new hair, black strands feathering across the lace on his hips. Judging by the slight flick of the latter’s tongue, he’s thinking the same thing.

“Wow I forgot how sickening couples were.” Chanyeol rolls his eyes to which Junmyeon fully agrees. “Thank god I’m not the only voyeur here anymore.”

“But you two are planning on going public soon, aren’t you?” Baekhyun asks, layering strawberry jam on a toast.

“Of course; that’s the whole point of the collaboration.”

Chanyeol’s eyes widen and he smacks his head. Baekhyun throws his toast on his plate in frustration. “Oh my god it was so obvious Chanyeol, what the fuck, how could you have not called them out for it before.”

“Me?! You weren’t any smarter than I was after a glass of champagne. Junmyeon plotted against us.” Chanyeol points at the billionaire in outrage.

Junmyeon holds his hands up in defense and Sehun tries to lower Chanyeol’s accusatory arms. 

“Well, I guess that’s a good reaction; makes things obvious and less of a surprise shock.”

“You seem to have forgotten the good-morning shock just thirty minutes ago.” Jongin raises a brow.

“That was more about them being our friends and deserving to know the truth.”

“That doesn’t change much from our loyal customers, and even our employees for deserving to know, too.”

“I’m allowed to have my personal life, fuck what they think they ‘deserve’. I chose what I say to who I trust.” Sehun affirms and Jongin has to smile for they’ve been through the same conversation countless times, and not once has Sehun’s headstrong beliefs changed. 

“That’s worthy of a headline.” Baekhyun nods. 

“I think I’ll let him do all the talking.” Jongin grins and Sehun shakes his head. 

“On New Year’s, I fell for your way of talking, you know. I need you by my side. You’re calm and rational, experienced and know how to talk the best with the investors.”

“Wow you two balance each other so well.” Chanyeol, says, gagging. Baekhyun kicks him underneath the table. 

Jongin laughs. “I think we’ll survive alright.” He says, looking at Sehun with that special look which always makes the present audience feel a tad awkward; being excluded from a deep, purely visual exchange, stars, secrets and shadows spilling from their eyes to rest in the latter’s treasured chest, resting on the tip of their tongue to be given, taken and kept to taste later, always in whispers, always in their own, shadowed bubble.

It’s a love which Chanyeol, Baekhyun - maybe Junmyeon - can’t grasp yet, for it’s so much deeper than those racing hearts and shared smiles in a morning bed; it’s confining in one another’s deepest insecurities, and being ready to be there through wind, rain and storm. No matter through which sexuality you find that person, everybody deserves that sliver of happiness, a breath of fresh air amid a pressured society, a rough industry.   
Jongin thinks that should be their headline. He should write it down, maybe send it to Kyungsoo for preparation. 

But for now, they all say goodbye, wishing Jongin best of luck for Paris again, Baekhyun underlying a compliment on Chanyeol’s new album, to which the idol straightened himself and offered an exclusive invitation to come backstage - which Sehun and Jongin took way dirtier than certainly intended, leaving the pretty businessman in a quick state of shock, but of course enough to merely say how he’ll have to check his schedule. 

Junmyeon waves off their thanks, and sends Chanyeol a telltale finger when the latter asks for hot pictures of the girl when she shows up again - or his ab workouts as a compromise. Chanyeol and Baekhyun take the same taxi since Baekhyun’s luxury apartment is on the way to Chanyeol’s hotel where he has his clothes to change for another flight back to Japan’s concert. Once or twice, Chanyeol wondered how rich Baekhyun’s apartment was, if there was a view of the city lights below, if the moonlight should shine better across his cheekbones, if there was a crystal chandelier to reflect champagne off Baekhyun’s tongue - and a dirty thought or two may have crossed Baekhyun’s mind when he silently illustrated Chanyeol’s hotel room, how soft the five-star sheets would feel against his skin, wrapped around Chanyeol’s hips lower than the towel from that morning.

They don’t speak for the entire ride. Only when the car slows in front of grand golden doors, does Baekhyun turn to face him with a slight smirk.

“Well then, good luck for the rest of your tour.”

“It’ll only be lucky if I get to see you at the front row.” Chanyeol doesn’t know who’s controlling his tongue, and can’t really decide whether he’s stupid or genius when Baekhyun grins.

“I told you I’d check my plans.”

“Or don’t come. I know it’s a lot to handle for a businessman who has to take care of shop displays.” Chanyeol takes a jab at his job and Baekhyun raises a brow.

“You’re right; it just might be too much for me. I’d rather sing home alone with my piano.”

“A grand piano?”

“No, I spent my 50 million won salary on old keyboards to throw on my crystal sculptures.”

Okay, not only does Baekhyun have a grand piano, but he also has crystal decorating his home. Noted. Chanyeol will need a very cold shower and a good football game to fucking stop that jelly in his knees at the fantasies seeming to already materialize in his mind.

“Oh, that’s a shame. If you did have a grand piano, you could have played a new song I just wrote.”

“Maybe when you’re back in December; winter always inspires me the most. My window is famous for its views over the city when it snows.”

And Chanyeol really has to stop creating fantasies which are prone to be true because it just isn’t helping. 

“We’ll see in December then.”

“Safe, travels.” Baekhyun nudges his chin in cool acknowledgement. 

“Thanks. Practice on that piano for me, then.” Chanyeol finds himself drawing his prize-winning smile, followed by a wink which he always and only saves for the girls he knows he wants in his bed within seconds. He closes the cab door and doesn’t let himself think about it until he crosses the street, waves at the doorman, goes up, up, up, 10, 20, 30 floors, down the corridor, swipes his card, opens the door, collapses on the bed, and screams into his pillow. 

Baekhyun remains in the cab, that stupid smile and wink literally making him consider taking a doctor’s appointment, for the sharp twist in his chest surely can’t be healthy, and maybe take some medication too; to stop the strange images drawing themselves inside his head, softening the edges and wrapping him inside big, warm arms, tattoo sweeping black underneath his fingertips, maybe playing his black and white keys, eyes slipping close as he swipes a tongue over his lips. 

Baekhyun rips a piece of his precious shirt, furious at himself when he finally gets home - for Byun Baekhyun never falls for straight guys. He was so much smarter, knew how to shut down any hope or feelings the minute a hetero came into the situation. He knew how to optimize the situation to his advantage. But why couldn’t he just shut down when it came to Chanyeol? Why does he keep thinking of his funny grins, his warm hugs, his goddamn abs, their constant game of tease resembling too much to the flirting he’s used and accomplished plenty of times? 

Byun Baekhyun never fell for straight guys. Except for one straight, who probably became a little crooked at the end of this week.

 

As for the actually straight side of the friend group, there’s Junmyeon who receives a sweet text from an unknown number; but doesn’t take more than a minute for him to save the name from the night before, and to send the address to a small coffee place once he’d placed a reservation for a table for two. 

Sehun and Jongin had stayed just long enough to see the businessman’s giddy reactions to his phone. Jongin tickles him while cooing about his little ‘Myeon getting his sugarbaby.

“She’s going to be whipped for you; trust me. Just wear your best casual clothes, and pay for the coffee with 100’000 won-”

“That’s actually all I have in my wallet…” Junmyeon rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Even better! You won’t have to fake it! All natural, rich, hot, girls would go wild for you. Tell me if you guys end up taking things back here, if things go well.” Jongin throws an exaggerated wink and Junmyeon pulls an angry face but is soon smiling too. 

“If things do go well, then I want you two out of here as soon as possible.”

“Penthouse?” Sehun asks, leaning his chin on Jongin’s shoulder. 

“You still haven’t paid its rent, by the way.”

“Yes I did! July, August, September!” Jongin objects. 

“You’re forgetting the replaced table, too.” Sehun whispers and Jongin stomps on his foot. Junmyeon’s eyes widen in horror.

“Jongin why the fuck would you need to replace my varnished, oak table -”

“Well, you’ve got a date to get to, Myeonnie, we can’t keep you waiting here for long!” Jongin announces, already pulling Sehun towards the door despite his whining about his crushed foot. 

“Damn right you better get me an even better table!” Junmyeon calls.

“Enjoy your date! Stay safe!” Jongin waves from the doorstep with a stretched smile.

“Thanks for the omelette!” Sehun adds, closing the door. 

Junmyeon shakes his head, trying not to imagine what his poor table has been through. Another message pops up from his phone, a cute heart emoji at the end making Junmyeon smile like a teenager. Rendezvous with Seulgi at 1pm, maybe getting lucky at 3pm.

 

Sehun and Jongin have to wait until 6pm until they can get lucky; for both have work to catch-up on, even if Fashion week was over, now came the deals, offers, promotions, investor meetings to handle. Sehun called his chauffeur to drop Jongin off at his house to let him change back into his work suit. Of course, Sehun had to distract him for a bit - it would be too easy if Jongin simply walked in, put on a suit, and went to work. 

Sehun had to keep pulling off Jongin’s tie, calmly popping the buttons back open as soon as Jongin had closed them. Normally, Jongin would be furious, but hell they hadn’t gotten to do anything properly last night, and Jongin was just as sex-bottled up as Sehun was. So when Sehun off-handedly pushed off Jongin’s jacket, Jongin snapped, pulling him in for a hard kiss. Their teeth hit, tongues pushing deeper into his mouth, Jongin’s hand pressed against Sehun’s boxers. 

“You’re making me late.” Jongin said, tugging harder on Sehun’s member until he moaned into his neck.

“Shame.”

“I want to top.” Jongin bites his earlobe, Sehun already pushed against the wall, knees buckling to Jongin’s rough touch, looking up at him with a red smirk.

“Yeah? Right now?” 

“No. I told you I was already late.” 

Sehun’s fingers dig into Jongin’s hair to tug lightly, his favorite move to make him just barely edge. Jongin clenches his teeth to suppress a shudder.

“Sure, about that, baby?”

Jongin snorts and presses a finger to Sehun’s slit until he looses his grip and curses with a broken groan.

“Tonight. Junmyeon’s penthouse.”

“Not on the table?”

Jongin laughs. “Actually, why not. We’re going to replace it anyway.”

Sehun licks his neck and breathes into his ear: “Why don’t you take me to your office? Fuck me with that suit and tie, glass windows, on your desk where everybody calls you ‘sir’ like you own them…”

Jongin almost collapses from the sweet fantasy. “Fuck Sehun.” he starts heavily grinding against Sehun, erection hardening by the minute.

“Come on, make me cum Jongin.” Sehun shivers and Jongin stops moving. He bites at the skin just beneath Sehun’s earlobe with a new sadistic smile.

“Sure I will; Tonight.” He traces the lines of Sehun’s naked torso beneath his shirt, “You’re going to edge yourself all day, think of me every second until 6pm.” Jongin slaps his ass and Sehun breathes a groan. “You’re rough.”

Jongin kisses him softly. “See you at six then.” He whispers before adjusting his jacket and turning to leave through the door before Sehun can catch up to him. Jongin jumps into his Maserati and pulls out of his driveway, his own hard straining against his trousers when he thinks of Sehun’s frustrated teasing underneath his office desk.

-

Thankfully, 6pm did eventually come, and so did Sehun; in strips of white on the oak table, moaning Jongin’s name as he tugged his hair, dragging rough fingertips down his sleek back as he was fucked and loved with every promise dripping from Jongin’s lips onto his tongue with aching need.

Sehun had taken revenge after Jongin’s escapade by sending pictures while at work. One of his leaking tip just peeking out from the waistband of his pants, another of Sehun’s large white hand pulling down the collar of his shirt to reveal a purple hickey. It was desperate, hot, and dear god did Jongin love him for it. Versatile; his favorite dom one minute, and completely pliant and spoiled for him the next. 

Needless to say, Jongin did love him, fucked him for every hard on he had to endure in that single day, finally relieving Sehun with indulgent praise, touch and kiss, even after they were both spent. They had fallen together into Junmyeon’s bed (also in need of many sheet replacements), Sehun curled into Jongin’s chest, lazily placing kisses along his neck, Jongin threading his fingers tenderly through his hair. 

“So you’re really going to Paris.” Sehun sighed.

“And we’re really going to do a collaboration.”

“And take the world by storm.” 

Jongin smiles and kisses his palm. 

“We just have to make sure that storm isn’t too destructive.”

“We’re too artistic to destroy anything, Jongin. It’ll be beautiful.”

“And we’ll have Chanyeol and Baekhyun to back us up now.”

“And god save anyone who tries to fight Baekhyun.” Sehun chuckles. Jongin grins. 

“Or even his tall idol. Those two would really be a power couple.”

“Who would top?” Sehun frowns.

“What kind of a question is that? Can you imagine Baekhyun’s tiny dick fucking Chanyeol?” Jongin shakes with laughter and Sehun swats his arm.

“Okay, true, but it’s just Baekhyun seems so much more pushy and decisive.”

“Well, look at us: you’re more stubborn than me, and yet look who couldn’t walk from the kitchen to here.” Jongin teases and Sehun raises a brow. 

“And I’ll let you remember who was handcuffed on a bed begging to be fucked while wearing lingerie?”

Jongin stick out his tongue. “See? We’re versatile, because we have almost the same physique and character. Works well.”

“It’ll work even better when I get to go to your office and bend you over your desk, your breath fogging up the glass.” Sehun rolls on top, making Jongin bare his throat as he licks up his neck.

“Can’t wait to work with you, Mr. Oh.” Jongin smirks, instinctively tracing the tattoo on his shoulder. 

Another three months to go until Paris, six until the two companies could start working together, eight months probably until Sehun could saunter into his office, seeing who could cum first without alerting the secretary. Jongin’s mind hazes over for the sake of Sehun’s tongue in the present; the future finally sinking into their bubble as well, for the first time a secure fantasy instead of a dangerous illusion, always intertwining fingers with the clock, and Sehun’s hands on his waist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, eight months~1year countdown! I was wondering if you would like to maybe read a New Year's threesome with SeKaiTao? I've been dying to write this ot3, but now I'm worried it might affect the new Taoris I've built up because ugh they're so soft I love them but sekaitao are my Gods hhhjsdf  
> please let me know what you think ! <3 Thank you for reading and for your patience too!


	17. Straight?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art:  
> Movies & Music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLYYY MANAGED TO UPDATE thank you all so much for staying with this story, I promise it'll be finished soon, it mainly took so long because I had to somehow 'resolve' the chanbaek and taoris side pairings, so I hope you enjoy their side fluff, even if the sekai is stable and will be coming back soon in full force for a satisfactory ending! <3

It’s midnight, maybe later; Chanyeol’s electric guitar crying in that, raspy, chest-digging sound as his fingers sing a tune on the strings, as the streetlight filters through the shutters, he plays a song to which he’s forgotten the words, the melody nothing more than an empty hum inside his throat. He hits a wrong chord and he stops and sighs. He’s tired, exhausted even, with his manager having reprimanded him about his behavior at a recent party after his concert - his birthday party, actually. His age may be in the thirties, but that never stopped his wild, fun-loving heart.

He had celebrated with cake, a hundred or so people he didn’t know in a large penthouse, fancy hors d’oeuvres and cheap champagne (to make him look better when he offered a bottle of special wine to lure a girl or two into his bed for the night ). There was plenty of live music, Chanyeol enjoying dancing instead of playing for once, drinking the night away with a pretty model on his hands.

He had woken up next to her in bed, the sex had been as good as every other drunk nights he’d had; hot, short, forgettable, emotionless when she clipped back on her bra, and he carelessly gave her his number for future backstage passes. Once she’d left, he had laid in bed until the afternoon, trying to remember her face again, how she’d felt in his arms. His arms were warm; he remembered his hands smoothing down the wonderful curve of her back, her soft breasts, the skinny slope of her ribs, down to her pale hip bones, sleek, slim thighs, warm and wet lip gloss on his neck. It had been fun.

He remembered the lights in the penthouse had been a steady flashing red and gold the entire night. Her lips were red, her rings were gold. He couldn’t see her; couldn’t see her face, couldn’t really hear her voice. So all his mind could substitute for the faded void was black tousled hair, dark eyes, soothing voice whispering, laughing beneath neon lights - and soft morning light, sweet tease stirring in his chest.

It dug a hole through his stomach, something he still needed ; not cake, not champagne, not heavy perfume on his neck. He thought it was music, but now, even at his favorite, quiet time of night, nor his keyboard or guitar could soothe his mood. He huffs and picks up his phone, scrolls through the numerous, unknown numbers he’d uselessly accumulated. But maybe one was useful. His thumb hovered over the name. He needed music; and he needed somebody else.

  
**Chanyeol , 01:14am**   
_**I’m passing by Seoul for vacation after a festival next month. How well-tuned is the famous piano?** _

He presses send, figuring Baekhyun would reply in the morning like a perfectly normal person - his head a little lighter as he plays one last soft acoustic to let himself be lulled into a deep sleep.

-

Baekhyun wakes up for work, his coffee bland as he scrolls through his emails and texts - and nearly drops his porcelain cup. His heart presses too tight against his ribcage, air a little caught in his throat when he reads the musician’s late-night text. First of all, Baekhyun recalls Chanyeol’s raving about his yearly vacation in the Bahamas; why would he be in Seoul? And second of all, of course the piano is well-tuned. “Who does he take me for?” Baekhyun mutters with a frown as he types out his reply.

**Baekhyun 08:15**

_**What, no Bahamas this year? And anybody who doubts my instrument care doesn’t deserve to play.** _

His wristwatch tells him he’s got five minutes to leave, so he turns off his phone and adjusts his blazer, because Byun Baekhyun has a mall to run and fretting over straight idols is the least of his priorities.

His philosophy does last until lunch break, when he jumps at the new text on his screen.

**Chanyeol 10:37**

_**What if that person brought some Bahamian cigars?** _   
_**And my manager is being a bitch, booked me up to my throat with festivals instead of flights :(** _

__Baekhyun snorts.

_**\- Poor little idol. The boss prefers rum.** _

_**I’ll note the rum if the boss notes a 5pm guest for the 14th of december** _

Baekhyun groans. He isn’t even lying an excuse when he tells him he has a dinner meeting with a company director to talk about new shop placements.

_**\- But come over on the 15th, 8pm** _

_**Sweet. Is there a code to enter or smth…?** _

_**\- Yeah, you have to bark 3 times for the door to unlock.** _

_**You’re cruel** _

_**\- See you on the 15th ;)** _

And miles apart, the same ironic thought sang in their heads:

_So, I guess it’s a date._

~~~~~

 

A week after their couch-shopping expedition, while Kris is just busy unlocking cabinets and setting up stools for the bar, Tao strides over to place a pile of neatly folded clothes on the corner of the bartop. Kris notices him and straightens himself, a slight grin at the corner of his lips. 

 

“I hope you don’t mind the late return; I chilled in them all Sunday, they’re really comfy.” Tao says pushing the clothes towards the bartender who waves his hand.

 

“Don’t worry, I was thinking of lounging in them this weekend too; the couch finally arrived.” There’s a slight pause when Kris takes the clothes in his hands, a small light passing over his face when he looks back up at Tao, “Do you want to come over and see it for yourself? You did chose it, and I’ve got a couple James Bond movies and popcorn waiting to be put to use.”

 

Surprise stuns Tao’s face for a couple seconds and Kris somehow wants to slap his own words back into his mouth, and somehow is hoping Tao will agree. Tao looks up at the tall bartender, and something inside his chest twists by habit. On the other hand, his common sense knows he has to somehow turn this thing into a game, or else he’ll keep being the only one getting hurt. So, he figures he can agree.

 

“Alright, I’m game.”

 

Kris lets out a small laugh of disbelief. “Sweet, cool.” He twists his lips in a shy manner and tosses the clothes back and forth in his hands, “Do you want my address to come over?”

 

Tao gnaws at his lip. “The buses from my place don’t run that often, and it’s said to be shitty weather all week -”

 

“I get it; my amazing Porsche has won you with its charm.”

 

“Yeah, your tiny Civic has one or two good moves I could note for the customers.” Tao smiles, and Kris feels a little light-headed.

 

“Well then, how about tomorrow night I can come pick you up at 6 and we can chill until work at 9. 

 

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

“Nice. Thanks for my clothes back then.” Kris raises his hand with the clean hoodie and sweatpants, to which Tao shakes his head.

 

“I should be the one thanking you.”

 

“It’s nothing. I think you have a stage to kill now.” Kris nudges his chin towards the stage who has finally come to life thanks to lights and airy music.

 

“Right. See you.” Tao juts out his chin in a cool goodbye, a spark in his eyes as he turns around with a perfect stride, hooking the bartender in for a few seconds longer before he tears himself back to the gleaming bottles, clothes tight in his hands.

 

\---

Tao doesn’t know when he’ll wake up from the image of Kris pulling up to his front door in a small, beat-up car, his rare smile making the worn metal seem to shine more than silver. Kris turns on a rap radio, chuckling when Tao makes fun of the gang sings he makes on the steering wheel.

At his apartment, Kris starts to set up the first movie while Tao figures out the microwave for a bag of popcorn. Once the room smells of roasted butter, Tao jumps onto the couch from behind Kris, almost spilling the bowl of kernels and hot popcorn. 

“This couch is great. You should be thanking me for my choice.”

“This is my way of thanks you bighead.” Kris laughs, flicking a kernel to Tao’s ear. 

“You’re welcome, then.” Tao grins and the classic James Bond opening starts to boom through the speakers. 

It’s Kris’ favorite series, and he’s more than happy to elaborate the scheme to Tao’s amateur eyes. However, two hours of car chases and explosions, Tao can’t help but yawn and lie down in a huff, slinging his slim legs over Kris’ lap just to annoy him. Kris looks down at his legs, to his face with a frown. Tao puts his hands behind his head and closes his eyes, a smile on his face. 

“Consider yourself lucky.” 

“I’m sure I am.” Kris rolls his eyes, letting his hands rest on the dancer’s legs anyway.

Tao turns his head to look at the TV instead of Kris’ smile. After a legendary line, a dark scene with the spy pressing another pretty girl into a mattress - the credits finally roll up the screen.

“Dude I kind of have to get up.”

“Why?”

“To change the movie.”

Tao hums and stretches his legs even more so across the latter’s lap. “Your problem, not mine.”

The sassy dancer has about a minute of pride before Kris’ big hands are suddenly attacking the bottom of his bare feet, and he’s sent into spasmodic flails and screams, Kris laughing as he continues tickling him. He does take a good blow in the ribs though, before Tao finally kicks himself away and ends up half on the floor, catching his breath from his laughing squeals. “You bitch, that’s not fair.”

Kris is still laughing as he finally gets to get up and change the DVD. “Not my problem.” He sticks out his tongue for good measure, and it’s the second James Bond movie which sets the two in a two-hour silent contest of tickling, silent games, and whatever else crosses their will to have fun, and both find themselves simply enjoying the moment. There’s no more intense thoughts over each touch, each brilliant smile; each action, each laugh ringing in the living-room is simply enjoyed in its purest, simplest form. Something about the banter makes them equal; Tao no longer feels like he’s the only one to be tossing a ball to the moon; now they’re both dancing on stars with no fear of gravity to tear them down.

 

They go to work together, both in good spirits. During Tao’s performance, he catches Kris’ eye - lingering longer than usual on his tight, scant costume - and a smile may have drawn on his lips and he may have arched his neck and back further than usual, maybe or not to please. After his shift, he passes by the bar in those tight jeans and designer shirt, a rather handsome man on his arm. 

He notices Kris chatting with a stunning girl - her jeweled nails glinting on the light of her cocktail, reflecting to her glossy lips as she smiles and laughs at whatever the tall bartender can say. Tao isn’t given time to put a word on the scene, when suddenly his new client pulls him into his lap, sitting on one of the barstools. Tao melts easily into things, and soon he’s busy giggling lightly and pressing kisses to the man’s neck, his fingers running in his hair, soothing his silk jacket - when he finds Kris looking right at him. Tao raises a brow and lets his tongue flick below the stranger’s jaw, earning a heavy shiver. 

Kris rolls his eyes and sticks out his tongue in a joking manner - and Tao is about to respond with another face, but he sees the diamond nail hooked onto the bartender’s collar, the girl slipping what’s probably her phone number into Kris’ belt as she claims him away with two hands - so Tao takes his client’s hands and slips them beneath his shirt, swivels his hips a little, and thank god the man is loud too; his moan catches Kris’ attention just as he’s being swayed away, and Tao’s timing is perfect when he gets to give Kris the full sight of him arches on a stranger’s lap, throwing him a wink as somebody else’s hands get to wander him another time this week - before the bartender is finally left with nothing but a pretty Tao-wannabe.

Just because they’re dancing on stars now, doesn’t mean he can’t play with the flames.

 

\----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to break down the update into two chapters; this one resolving the taoris in a sense and opening a promising chanbaek ... guess you'll have to keep reading to find out how well Baekhyun's piano sounds ;)


	18. Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heterosexuality isn't an option when it comes to Baekhyun's enticing harmonies
> 
> Fashionably professional; all that the collaboration Nohant x Juun J. is about

**December 15th**

The ring at Baekhyun’s doorbell startles him out of the political debate on his television. For a second, he’s confused as he automatically walks to the buzzer camera to see who’s at the main door ten floors down - and he almost spits out his favorite wine when he sees the tall head of curly hair looking around, a noticeable guitar case on his back. “Fuck” Baekhyun curses because he hadn’t seen the time and… oh fuck it - his “casual attire” will have to do.  
He exhales slightly longer than necessary without realizing it, before he presses the button to the speaker.

“Glad you found it.”

Chanyeol’s head immediately turns and a smile relaxes his face. “Same. Thought I’d pressed on the wrong number for a minute.”

“How’s your jetlag?” Baekhyun’s mouth flies out small talk before he knows it - probably some excuse (which he won’t admit to himself), like wanting to stall the entrance of Mr. Park into his living-room because maybe he’s not ready yet.

“It would be easier to talk over that piano of yours.” Chanyeol taps the door pointedly and Baekhyun huffs.

“I told you, you have to bark three times to get in.”

“You’re mean.” Chanyeol’s expression falls, brows furrowed yet eyes sparkling wide, his lower lip pushing forward in a childish pout ; the curly hair and puppy eyes have Baekhyun everything but cooing. He grins and presses the buzzer to unlock the door. “Third floor.”

It’s almost comical how Chanyeol doesn’t even seem to get out of character ; his head snaps up and a grin splits his face - exactly like a dog hearing his leash clicking for a run.  
He disappears from the camera when he goes through the door, and that’s when Baekhyun snaps out of whatever had him distracted right then - he looks down - no, this attire won’t do. He sprints to his room, frantically throwing open his dresser, changing into a sort of turtleneck and a pair of slim black sweatpants which actually fit him far sexier than he’d care to admit for this particular occasion - no time to tease himself about it, because there’s the expected knock on his door.

Baekhyun lets him inside and Chanyeol enters, mumbling some curses about Baekhyun’s “nasty and useless doorman”. Baekhyun frowns and eyes Chanyeol’s fit. “Really? You’re wearing Tommy - shows you’re not broke - so he should be nice, normally.”

Chanyeol scoffs as he’s taking off his shoes - the newest Balenciaga, actually. “Glad I’m not considered as ‘broke’, especially carrying a bottle of shit expensive Bahamian rum.” he reaches inside his guitar case - apparently it had enough space for liquor - and pulls out a brilliant bottle of amber rum.

Baekhyun smiles when he hands the liquor over. “Well, at least you keep your promises.” He hums, sauntering over to the kitchen to pour a finger of the alcohol into crystal glasses. “What’s that even supposed to mean?” Chanyeol frowns, making his way over to the marble tabletop too. “It means that now you can show me how to make a proper mojito, Mr. Bahamas.” Baekhyun pushes the two glasses towards the musician with an expectant smirk on his face. Chanyeol laughs. “I told you I was a pro at everything except for cocktails.”

“Really?” Baekhyun frowns. He really has to work on his memory after club nights. Before Chanyeol can tease him about the blank memory, Baekhyun waves him away, pulling out a couple mixes to do it himself, pouring a small glass for each of them. They clink glasses to drink and Chanyeol’s expression twists into something perplexed.

“It’s really sweet. I can’t decide whether it’s good or not.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. His cocktails never disappoint but this was Park Chanyeol. “If you’re too manly to admit something other than dark beer and hard whiskey is good, then I’m afraid my piano isn’t meant for people too ‘manly’ as yourself.”

Chanyeol’s brows skyrocket, and he almost seems hurt. “It’s good, it’s good.”

Baekhyun shakes his head with a smile.“You can start playing, if you like.” He nudges his chin to the grand piano, “I’ve got work to do.” He drinks his glass and starts to turn towards the couch with his laptop - but Chanyeol’s panicked interjection draws a hidden grin on his lips.

“I was actually hoping you’d help me work out something for my song…” Chanyeol stands, rubbing the back of his neck. Baekhyun faces him and cocks his head. “Alright. Show me what you got, then.”

Chanyeol nods in a ‘challenge accepted’ sort of way, as he goes over to get something from his guitar case again. Baekhyun waits patiently by the piano, arms loosely crossed on the sleek black surface. He’s had one or two one-night stands be completely enthralled with the instrument, wanted to move from the large window to bend him over the smooth surface, then finish off on the couch. He idly traces the visible scratch marks he’d clawed into his poor instrument. Thinking about it, it was a rather fun night, and the man himself was incredible. Maybe Baekhyun could call him sometime soon…

A beige notebook slides across the closed surface, over the black, the white lines, stopping at his fingertips. Chanyeol has seated himself on the stool, his soft hair glistening in the sunset.

“I was hoping there would be snow already, but your view honestly still works well without.”

“Enough to inspire?” Baekhyun flicks through the notebook, assuming whatever song Chanyeol has written is on the last entry.

“Well, I somehow managed to pull a couple verses out of my jet-lagged ass, so the lyrics aren’t too important.” Chanyeol waves it off, and finally starts playing a few soft notes.

His large hands cover maybe five keys at a time, but each note rings sharp and precise, the chords swelling into a fuller sound to fill the space with watercolor music, blue purple and summer breeze carrying the melody from Chanyeol’s fingertips across swirling seas, the notes flitting across Baekhyun’s neck like fairies. He’s so lost in the sound for a minute, that he completely forgets about reading the song, until Chanyeol’s wandering gaze catches his eye and he smiles, nodding towards the poor forgotten notebook - his hands still soothing a song from the ivories. Baekhyun forces his eyes back to the lyrics on the book.

Chanyeol plays through the whole song, with Baekhyun following with the lyrics, humming what he supposes is the melody. When Chanyeol plays the last note and there’s finally nothing but silence again, Baekhyun smiles.

“Seems perfect to me. What did you want help for?”

“I needed someone to help me do a harmony.”

“You could do that in a studio.” Baekhyun teases.

“But the studio doesn’t have a grand piano with a view over Seoul, and it’s not easy finding talented singers in Seoul for anything less than a bottle of rum.”

Baekhyun shakes his head and sips at his drink before turning over to Chanyeol’s side finally taller than the latter. “Alright. Show me the chords.”

Chanyeol presses an F sharp which starts the melody, and he’s about to explain where the harmony is - but Baekhyun beats him to it; his slender fingers fitting right between Chanyeol’s large ones, the heel of his hand soft over Chanyeol’s hand - his voice singing the exact harmony to mimic the chord he plays between Chanyeol’s.

The musician can only numbly nod. “Now C.” He says, either his voice or hands shaking as Baekhyun lets him move to the next chord - a little further down the keys, Baekhyun’s chest pressing lightly against his back as he reaches to follow the chord. Chanyeol sings the lyric for the chord and Baekhyun completes it with the harmony again; his soft hand, floating voice is somewhere too close to his ear.

Chanyeol closes his eyes to focus on his melody as they sing in time - and it’s a perfect match. It’s exactly what the song needed. Chanyeol finds himself smiling like a joker, inexplicable joy rushing through his chest, shivers running down his spine as Baekhyun’s high, floaty harmony completely sends him to seven different heavens with each run, each lingering note. They only sing to the end of the verse, and Baekhyun finishes his harmony suddenly early, leaving a spotlight on Chanyeol’s melody - just to listen to that deep voice, husk rolling down his throat with a stronger fire than the purest liquor.

Chanyeol has opened his eyes when he finishes, turns to look up at Baekhyun with an amused frown. “Why’d you stop?”

“Forgot the lyrics.” Baekhyun shrugs, his hand gliding over Chanyeol’s wrist as he moves away.

“Your voice is amazing.” The honest compliment finally pushes past his lips, taking the latter a little by surprise.

“Thanks. Yours is too.” Baekhyun clears his throat, taking several long sips of his cocktail. Not enough alcohol to blame for the way his head spins when Chanyeol smiles at the compliment.

“Could you pass over my book, I need to make a couple more notes.” Chanyeol orders, immediately correcting himself with a small ‘please’ at Baekhyun’s raised brow.

With his precious songbook and small pen in his hand, he starts working out one or two things, humming the tune to himself as he gently plays the refrain, before nodding and jotting down scribbles beside the lyrics. He’s in a full musician mode, and well, it’s all Baekhyun can look at - purely since he’s finished his drink, and he doesn’t have anything else to do except for silently admire all his little changes, the small frowns and satisfied grins which pass light and shadow over his face as he’s immersed in his passion.

Baekhyun is too busy staring to consider the possibility that the musician would catch him - but his eyes eventually break out of the notebook trance to look at Baekhyun, red-handed. Baekhyun turns his head, missing the latter’s smirk.

“Drinks?” he chokes out, picking up his own empty glass as he moves to the kitchen. Chanyeol hasn’t touched his, but he shakes his head.

“I need to be able to feel my fingers if I want to play right.”

Baekhyun immediately stops his hand which was moving towards the bottle of rum and ashamedly turns to fill himself a glass of water instead.

“Would you mind going through it again? I think I’ve figured out when the harmonies come in and everything.” Chanyeol stops playing and waits for Baekhyun to nod and come back to the piano. He shows him the song plan, and Baekhyun obediently nods and agrees to all the adjustments made, but also does offer different points and suggestions to amplify the break, and soften the refrain.

They collaborate - musician and singer - together. Chanyeol will play a verse, and Baekhyun will add in the harmonies where he’s pointed out, then continue onto the break where they’ll professionally argue over the better tune, Baekhyun taking up the small space seat left next to the latter to pointedly show him a better chord progression, his petite face turning up to the taller’s, expecting a reaction - but Chanyeol’s only thought is how close he is, how the music seems to sing so much better beneath his hands.

Baekhyun will smile something devious and let his fingers keep playing the keys, eyes darker in the sinking sun, still chained to Chanyeol. The musician will laugh to get out of it, swatting his hands away to keep the focus on the song. They’ll sing over and over until Baekhyun finally doesn’t need to look at the book anymore - keep his focus on the music; Chanyeol’s voice, the piano’s tune, the beautiful contrast of his tanned hands, silver Rolex dancing across the keys.

They have fun with it all; one sometimes playfully out-singing the other with a few fancy runs or a building high note creating the best kind of symphonies. The first time they make it through the song from beginning to end, harmonies, breaks and all - they both awe, too happy and impressed with themselves to even care that Baekhyun is ruffling his curly hair, or that Chanyeol’s arm has slid across his waist for a small hug.

“Thank you, really.”

“Now that definitely deserves a drink.” Baekhyun’s smile is blinding, his fingers are light on the nape of Chanyeol’s neck and it’s all the happy musician can do not to melt on the spot. He doesn’t know why or what will makes his grip tighten on the singer’s slim waist, pull him closer to nudge his nose in his hair.

Baekhyun’s other hand has landed on his thigh to stay balanced, and fuck he’s really beautiful.  
“You stay here and play - I’ll make the drinks.”

“Alright. I only take mojitos, though.” Baekhyun hums, certainly the alcohol making his hand lightly squeeze the musician’s damn strong thigh. Chanyeol grins and pinches his waist before sliding out and walking towards the kitchen countertop.

Baekhyun places his fingers on the keys, heart shaking his ribcage with the force of a contained earthquake. His waist is still warm - he can still draw the exact shape of Chanyeol’s hand, like an imprint through his clothes. He plays something off the top of his head, his favorite ballad to ring through the windows, almost like it’s being carried out to skip across skyscrapers, spin through galaxies.

Chanyeol’s hands are shaking, and he knocks back a finger of the strong rum for himself because shit he’ll need one hell of an excuse for wanting to touch Baekhyun again - his slim, toned waist more than a treat for his hands. He finds himself almost clawing at the marble countertop to resist smashing a bottle because holy shit he’s probably gay for Byun Baekhyun. Looking up as he shakily pours the mojito, Baekhyun’s eyes are on the keys, on the window, lost in a beautiful trance and Chanyeol finds himself wanting to be a part of his bubble.

He makes his way to lean against the large window, sipping his own straight rum in one hand, Baekhyun’s colored cocktail in the other. When Baekhyun finishes his piece, Chanyeol hands him his drink with a mirrored smile.

“So I guess this rum was really worth it.”

Baekhyun sips his drink at nods. “It’s been a while since I hadn’t played. It’s so much fun singing with someone else.”  
He then asks Chanyeol more about his tour, when he plans on releasing his album. Chanyeol informs him that he’ll definitely have to come to the studio to record it with him. Baekhyun hides his blush by shaking his head, saying he’ll have to check his schedule. Chanyeol doesn’t let him get away, folding himself across the piano to pout and plead. “I won’t do it with anybody else.”

“I’m serious, I’m busy.” Baekhyun all but hides his amused laugh.

“Baekhyun-ah… sing for me.” Chanyeol cocks his head with a loopsided smile. God he really was bad at alcohol.

“Chanyeol-ah, play the guitar for me.” Baekhyun reaches over to pat his cheek like a child.

And so that’s how Chanyeol ends up seated on a chair with his guitar, strumming a song. His voice carries so well, and all Baekhyun can do is look at him with a smile, chin in his hand. But he’s never one to be idle. He places his hands just over the keys when Chanyeol finishes, and asks if he knows any songs they could play together. Baekhyun says the Beatles, and Chanyeol says While My Guitar Gently Weeps. It’s no easy play, but Chanyeol doesn’t hesitate on a single note as he starts off, letting Baekhyun know which chords to sing, which to entertain.

Playing with another person is strangely intimate; because to make music together you have to be in tune with the other person, picking up their little nudges, being attentive to their needs, and you adjust your melody to follow them on whatever path they chose. So Baekhyun alternates between his fingers on the keys, and Chanyeol’s on his guitar - making sure to keep his touch light as not to drown the latter’s acoustic - sometimes his gaze passing to affirm Chanyeol’s next chord - and the latter is already looking at him - or his eyes are closed, head tossed back to expose a long column of white cartilage a small smile on his lips and he nods his head along to the music.

At the break, Chanyeol looks at Baekhyun with an encouraging nudge of his head, and softens his guitar slightly. Baekhyun shakes his head with a smile, and starts off on a solo, reveling in the full and powerful sound his piano makes - before tossing the ball back to the real musician, who goes off on a unique guitar solo, pulling twists and tears and scales running over one another in a beautiful acoustic touch. When he gently starts to come back to the chorus, Baekhyun picks up the pace, and they sing a powerful last refrain together, Baekhyun finishing the last line in a more gentle, sad tune, the last note ringing in the silence like a teardrop.

Baekhyun feels a strange thrill in his chest, the new perspective of music he’d never really acknowledged before then: a passion to be shared. It’s not easy for a soloist to always give up their spotlight, but in this case, chanyeol finds himself wanting to give it all up for Baekhyun - whose voice could easily out-do a whole wave of idol vocalists with one single line. He’s in raptures over this little gem he’s found - black hair, clothes, piano, but sparkling eyes and soft lips. It usually takes years of practice for a duo to work through a whole song as complicated as that - but with Baekhyun, they simply clicked. It’s just so easy getting in tune with the small singer - something almost as natural as picking up his guitar to strum a few chords he knows like the back of his hand.

He’s staring - maybe for too long - but Baekhyun smiles and stands, walking slowly over to Chanyeol as the musician starts to put his guitar away. They both exchange soft compliments, nothing more than a word or two but damn his eyes shine in ways far more brilliant than words could ever praise.

Baekhyun looks at the painting on his wall in a small break of bashfulness - and asks for the time. Judging by Chanyeol’s expensive wristwatch, it’s almost 8pm already. Winter night has long fallen across the city, and Baekhyun’s stomach - empty except for liquid dinner - is starting to cry.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

Chanyeol opens his mouth, but then twists into a frown - like he wants to agree but his mom has plans. “I would but I’m on a strict diet for my next tour…” Ah, so not the mom - the manager. The musician rubs the back of his neck, mouth still silently open as though grasping for some way to accept nonetheless.

“For the tour? What are you going to do - give all the little girls a striptease for a twitter thirst trap?” Baekhyun smirks, but the musician’s ears seem to redden even more. He twists his feet as he mumbles, “It helps the albums sell faster.”

Baekhyun laughs. “Aw baby idol. You can choose where to order from then.”

Chanyeol’s head pops up again with that happy smile. “Really? Okay, I’ll let my manager know not to worry about me or anything.”

He moves away to make a quick phone call, and Baekhyun pulls out his own phone to start searching for possible healthy take out places to offer. Once his manager is satisfied with his excuse, Chanyeol comes back over, and immediately recommends a restaurant with plenty of low-calorie meals ; sautéed vegetables and baked meats.  
Goody. Baekhyun forces a smile and lets him dial the number. He’s never been one to diet; his job mostly making him skip one or two meals until his secretary alarms him with the local bakery’s lunch boxes. Thank god for fast metabolism.

Chanyeol finishes their orders and joins Baekhyun on the couch with a sigh. “He said 30 minutes. God I’m starving, actually. Fucking diet.” He groans, hand painfully tight on his stomach. He’s wearing a sweater, but Baekhyun can vividly recall those lined muscles and tight skin stepping out from a morning shower.

“Don’t you at least have cheat days sometimes? You didn’t look like you really need a strict diet.”

Chanyeol grins at that. “Sure, but my manager puts a lot of pressure on me to keep my image or whatever…” His expression saddens. “Not a lot of people realize it, but I’d definitely say that the music industry is the one which puts the most pressure on you. Like, I’m a soloist so I don’t even really have a group to rely on when things suck, someone to fully relate to; it’s just pressure from the manager to pull out better songs every time, the fans who of love me sure, but who also expect top performances. So you end up dieting to strip onstage, start spending your money on drugs to get so fucked up you forget you’re lonely.” Chanyeol is staring at the ceiling, and Baekhyun feels like he could cry. There’s a heavy silence and Baekhyun can only think of breaking it with some lame comfort, “That’s true. I guess in business you either become a Wolf of Wall Street or just stressed and overworked. But you do get a break at the end of the day; no fans to run away from, at least.”

Chanyeol nods, before breaking his blank stare away to shake his head and look at Baekhyun. “I’m sorry for the mood storm; it’s just, today somewhat reminded me of how stressful my life can really be, and I didn’t realize how much I needed a proper break - not a vacation in some island; but just being able to really feel the music again, have fun with it with somebody else… it’s so different and refreshing… I just wanted to say thank you.” He gives him a shy, earnest smile, and Baekhyun finally feels that damn muscle in his chest twitch violently again, his lips mirroring a beautiful smile in return.

“No problem. I’m glad it helped you finish your song, and you can come over anytime you need a break, you know.” Baekhyun can’t believe his own words. Did he just… ?

“Seriously?”

What can you do before such a precious question, puppy eyes and big smile? Baekhyun was helpless. He’d give a world for Chanyeol’s smile. “Anytime.”

“Shit man, you deserve five bottles of rum, free cocktails, and a whole room of girls.”

Baekhyun laughs at Chanyeol’s peculiar thanks. “I’ll take the alcohol; you can keep the girls.”

To his surprise, Chanyeol scoffs. “You can’t fool me, Mr. Byun; you were more than happy to have that stripper in your lap last time.”

Baekhyun has to think for a minute - before biting his tongue to resist bursting out into laughter. Was he really talking about that time at the club when a girl had thrown herself onto him and Baekhyun saw a chance to make Chanyeol jealous because he’d gotten the girl (which, by the way, felt like he was fucking his sister) ?  
_Oh but Mr. Park, I have fooled you._

He lounges into the couch and smirks. “Yeah, she was hot. You sound like you’re almost jealous.”

“Of who?”

“You tell me.”

Chanyeol huffs and shakes his head. “Fine, you’re only getting the liquor. No girls for you.”

“I said you could have them.”

“I don’t want them.”

“Why not?”

“They’re nothing special.” The musician shrugs, crossing his arms behind his head as he leans back, sweater close to revealing a strip of boxers and rock muscle. Baekhyun needs a glass of water.

“It’s not easy keeping up with someone as special as you.” baekhyun laughs as he gets up to pour himself some water.

“Speak for yourself.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “Cute.” Thank god his back is turned. He offers the musician a glass of water, and by the time they’re both peacefully sober drinking, the doorbell chimes.

However, instead of it being a random delivery man, it’s the doorman who brings the food to the door - basic precaution for the rich. He gives a blinding smile to Baekhyun, bowing, and asking how his day has been. Chanyeol is busy making himself scarce in the background - as well as a six foot musician can - but the doorman’s beady eyes narrow into daring little slits when he catches Chanyeol’s eye. Looking down at his sweater - the red and blue Hilfiger well on display, as well as his watch glinting in the lamplight - the man’s lips curl into a somewhat forced smile - resembling a cruel grimace more than anything - before bowing deeply, and wishing them both a lovely dinner.

Baekhyun closes the door and laughs when he turns around to find the poor musician wedged in the corner of the fridge and the countertop. The latter immediately steps out and neatens his hair, mumbling something about dust on his wall. Baekhyun happily lets him be embarrassed - already too busy retrieving bowls in his cupboard.

“Need any help, there?”

Baekhyun scoffs, pulling out two finely decorated bowls. “I think I’m more than capable of arranging my home to have everything to be at least conveniently at reach, so no, I really don’t.”

Chanyeol holds up his hands in surrender, getting to open the food instead. Steaming vegetables are lavishly laid over succulent pork - the box is snatched out of his hands.

“I believe this is my order.” Baekhyun smirks and Chanyeol groans.

“Man are you snappy when you’re hungry.”

Baekhyun immediately shuts up and focuses on transferring his food to the bowl with a frown. Chanyeol had just taken a jab too perfectly accurate at his hidden character and it wasn’t fair. The musician laughs at the businessman’s sudden pout.

“Don’t worry, this food will literally make everything so much better.” Chanyeol is practically drooling already as he flips his chopsticks into place.

“Hope you’re right.” Baekhyun sniffs and Chanyeol winks.

“Enjoy, sir.”

Baekhyun finally smiles at that, and the two are finally allowed to enjoy a delicious meal at 9pm on a friday night. They’re both too busy chewing and grinning at the exceptional taste to really bother with conversation much - but the little awkward silences, which are bound to settle in, are quickly cleared up rather naturally by one or the other asking about work, vacations, or clothes. Seeing as how both enjoy a relatively lavish lifestyle, it’s easy to find common ground in all kinds of areas - but in a more rich version, of course.

They had finished their meal and were on the topic of parties. Chanyeol was busy relating a crazy party with lots of high-ranked rappers of all sorts in Tokyo, and how one was so high on drugs he was talking to the pool flamingo, smashed a bottle of blue champagne and tried to run around naked before Chanyeol stopped him. Baekhyun laughs at the hero-promotion.

“Come on, I’m sure you were just as bad.”

Chanyeol exhales and shakes his head. “There was some wild shit at that place. I was seeing whole new spectrums of colors. Confused a girl for a guy and -” Chanyeol stops himself mid-sentence and nervously laughs. “It really wasn’t great - the morning, I mean.”

“They never are.” Baekhyun laughs but somehow the topic of girls always stings a little bit when it comes to Chanyeol.

“They are for the lucky person who gets to wake up next to me.” The idol winks and Baekhyun rolls his eyes and starts clearing the dishes.

“Sure; I bet all your girls love waking up to a drooling puppy who takes up all the space in the bed.” His sentence rings with a little more piqued jealousy than he thought it would.

“My girls?” Chanyeol raises a brow, somewhere between amused with underlying hurt. Baekhyun turns up his nose, pushing the bowls into the sink.

Chanyeol lets out a dry laugh. “There are only two girls who have been given the privilege to be called mine - and let me tell you, it still didn’t end pretty. All the others now,” he shrugs, picking up a chopstick to tap on the marble, “they’re nothing.”

Baekhyun can only hum and turn his back to start washing the dishes. “How poetic.”

Chanyeol snorts and Baekhyun hears him get up from the stool. “You wash your dishes by hand?” - is of course, the only possible way to follow up a sketchy topic.

And the only way to answer, of course, is by saying: “Of course, how do you think I get my arm workout in?”

Chanyeol actually laughs. “Alright damn, can I try then?” He asks, and suddenly Baekhyun sees a long arm reaching for the soap in front of him - a warmth daringly close to his back, a neck brushes the top of his head.

“No, fuck off, it’s my sink.” Baekhyun swats his arm away with a soapy hand, and suddenly, there are two arms caging him against the counter. He can feel Chanyeol’s warm chest pressed against his back, muscular arms close and firm against his sides. First of all, Baekhyun is confused. Second of all, the slight pressure has him unbalanced, leaning slightly forward on the counter, and it’s a very hot, very comprimising position.

Then, that stupidly deep voice just has to brush by his ear. “I bet you can’t get out.”

Two options now: either do that one trick which ends with said hot jerk rolling on the floor with a hand to his painful crotch - or do something really stupid and sexy. Baekhyun always likes to think of himself as a pacifist; so that’s his excuse for pushing his ass a little back to give himself some space to turn around - and fuck he didn’t think they would be this close.

Chanyeol’s tall frame blocks all the light, until all Baekhyun’s faced with is a shadow with golden thread lining his silhouette, splaying through his curled hair to sweep across his cheekbone - his eyes sparkle obsidian and Baekhyun is trapped. He’s winded, he can feel his fingers turn blue, cold as they curl into the counter ledge; he needs that golden skin, that honey smile on his tongue to breathe again - but he could never show that weakness.

“Why would you think I couldn’t get out?”

“Cuz you still look pretty trapped to me.” Chanyeol blurts out, and Baekhyun thinks it’s funny how he’s the one saying that with his large, lost puppy eyes. Baekhyun is one point up.

“Do I, really?” Baekhyun leans back a little, letting his hips jut out, his neck a little arched as the ledge digs into the bottom of his spine.

Chanyeol automatically leans in, to follow his mouvement, to follow him. There’s a slash of light which smiles on his skin, slopes over his gentle nose - but the big eyes are what makes Chanyeol shiver the most. Of course Baekhyun isn’t the one who’s trapped here; Chanyeol is. He’s hooked on those lips, that soft white skin, slender neck, the feel of his small frame melting against his.

“No.” Chanyeol breathes. He can’t stand it anymore. He’s being teased, completely at his mercy - it’s nothing like the little games he’d play with girls, where Chanyeol always knew he’d win anyway. Here, now, he feels nothing but aching need for this person to fill all his empty spaces, the gaps between the veins on his heart -  
And Baekhyun’s pretty fingers have slid over his hoodie, just coming up to curl at the neckline.

“What are you doing Chanyeol?” Baekhyun whispers, but there’s something of a broken hitch in his voice which rips Chanyeol away from his lightened dream. He frowns, finds himself bringing his hands to rest against his back.

“I… You…” He stutters and bites his lip. Baekhyun smiles.

“Cat got your tongue?”

I wish you had my tongue - Chanyeol only thinks. “You literally spin my brain in all sorts of ways - at first I didn’t like it one bit, but now… Man you sing, you’re smart, you’re handsome and slim and shit Baekhyun I don’t even know -”

Baekhyun gently shushes his babble, the grin on his face however wide, the warm bubble in his core at the musician’s large hands on his waist however comforting, his shy dimple however heartwarming - Baekhyun keeps his hands still on the hoodie’s neckline. He won’t make the first move on a hetero, no matter how whipped he’s become.

Oh, but Chanyeol’s expression is starting to crumble, he’s starting to worry - dammit Baekhyun won’t let him slip through his fingers. He slowly lets his index circle the musician’s collarbone, follow a deeper line of cartilage up to his adam’s apple. He can feel his breath hitch, his nervous swallow rolling beneath his fingertip.

“You’re straight?” Baekhyun asks, and Chanyeol breathes a laugh.

“I’m definitely can’t think about girls when I’m with you.”

“I hope not.”

Chanyeol smiles and tentatively starts to lean down, just closing the gap halfway.

“You know you can always escape.” He says with a hush because if he speaks more than the wind, he’ll break the precious invisible glass they’re holding, just between their lips.

“I know.” Baekhyun also hums, pushing his body just a little straighter, just a little closer. “If you kiss me, you’re not straight, you know.”

“Don’t care.” Chanyeol breathes, his hand coming up to cup his jaw. “Please.”

“The magic word.” Baekhyun grins and finally, finally, pulls him closer, melts the invisible glass ball the same way he melts into Chanyeol’s lips. His touches are so careful at first - almost shy beginner style - and Baekhyun is almost confused before he realizes he’s probably never kissed a man before. It’s not complicated; it’s just better than any girl.

He breaks away for just a breath. “I’m not a flower, you know.” He says, nipping at Chanyeol’s god-red bottom lip. Chanyeol grins and pecks his nose.

“I’m taking my time. It’s… different kissing a guy.”

Baekhyun hums, his hand coming back around to slowly massage his scalp. “Don’t take too long.”

Chanyeol smiles, his arm wrapping more securely around his waist as he kisses again - like a man - and Baekhyun melts all over again. He lets himself fold into his touch, opening him up at the same time he lets him chase after him - god it’s so lush and brilliant when Baekhyun rolls his hips dangerously hot and that beautiful throat rips a low growl through Baekhyun’s gut.

Suddenly, he needs more. More of that smirk whimpering against his lips, that dripping muscle rolling beneath his hand, those large hands kneading into his flesh, more of that sweet tongue swiping, engulfing his mouth, his lips, teeth tongue, everything. Lust starts to creep through their veins, claim their oxygen and sense until Baekhyun’s hand has slid up Chanyeol’s hoodie, letting his nails trace hills and valleys of muscle and skin, coming down to rest at his belt.

They breaks apart, and Chanyeol’s full-blown pupils and wet lips is a sight Baekhyun would probably laugh at otherwise - but he knows he’s the exact mirror. He does smile, though, when the musician breathes his name in a voice far deeper, more enticing than Baekhyun could ever possibly imagine - the shorter purring like a kitten when he runs his hands through his hair.

“God you’re perfect.”

“Shut up, you’re better.” Baekhyun nuzzles his nose into his neck, letting himself bask in the warmth, the sharp cologne, the secure frame.

“You have to come sing with me now. No excuses.”

“Let me finish the dishes first.” Baekhyun says just for the fun of it, and Chanyeol’s scoff and sudden push leaves him in a laughing fit. The musician ignores the latter’s mockery and starts to finish cleaning the bowls himself in record time, wiping his soapy hands dry and turns around to Baekhyun who’s leaning on the other counter this time. Chanyeol starts to walk back to him, but Baekhyun turns away and starts walking away.

“Couch?” He says over his shoulder, and Chanyeol doubles his step, sitting on the couch before he can even get there. Baekhyun grins down at him and Chanyeol can feel himself just wanting to drop everything right then and there for him, and his head, heart and soul is fully gone when the latter settles himself to straddle his lap, tilting his chin up with a finger, granting him with several sweet smiling pecks before finally pressing his lips open in a deep kiss.

Baekhyun lets himself give everything he has in that kiss, lets all the music, the colors, the warmth pour from his tongue and dance from his lips for his favorite musician. It feels so perfect, so right just being settled against him like this, everything he’s dreamed of since that famous club night, no more flashing neon or buzzing alcohol; it’s only the two of them, the silence, the music, the passion cocooning them in this perfect little bubble - a forbidden fruit finally bursting the most succulent flavors on his tongue when Chanyeol leans further back, bringing him closer, closer, harder against him, Baekhyun’s hands in his hair, hips on his, Chanyeol’s hands shaping his svelte form as they press hard up the lines of his back.

It takes everything in him for Baekhyun not to completely chase after the flaming lust restless beneath his skin, not to grind against his hips and moan like he knows he can hook people underneath his finger in a second - he keeps himself still and careful, because he knows it’s still precarious, still just a wavering bubble so thin, so beautiful but so young - he can’t push it too far and risk losing everything.

He pulls away only a little bit - just enough to see Chanyeol’s dark eyes, but sad smile. He pouts, pressing Baekhyun a little closer to his hips and Baekhyun grins, nuzzling into his neck.

“I’ll record your song with you,” he says, coming up to put his lips hush close to the musician’s fine ear, “So I can show you all my talents.”

Chanyeol hums a smile at that. “That’s a very good promise.”

Baekhyun grins and leans back to sit a little further back, bringing Chanyeol’s hands between them, he laces their fingers together like a daisy chain. It’s suddenly sweet, and they exchange warm smiles, both looking at their hands fitted together - a little like how they should have been on the piano hours ago. Speaking of the time -

“Wow it’s already 10?” Baekhyun frowns at the musician’s watch, “I have work tomorrow.” he pouts, resting his forehead against the latter’s.

“Nooo please don’t kick me out.” Chanyeol whines and Baekhyun pecks his cheek, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles.

“I’m afraid I have to. But I seriously promise to come help you record your song, if you’d like.”

“You’re the best.” Chanyeol nuzzles his nose. “I’ll see with my manager when he wants to start recordings, and I’ll let you know. Should be before the end of the month.”

“Don’t see too many girls at parties until then.” Baekhyun says before thinking - and air suddenly lodges in his throat because it’s a sudden sort of claim, and maybe it’s too fast, but it’s true -

“I won’t.” Chanyeol doesn’t let him worry any longer as he answers, quick and firm. He detaches one of their hands to gently cradle Baekhyun’s jaw. “I won’t want any of them now.”

Baekhyun can’t help the smile which breaks out on his face, when he kisses the latter’s palm, even if it’s dangerous, even if it’s unsure, he doesn’t want anything to break this dream right now.

“Good.”

Chanyeol brings him in for a long, heartfelt kiss, his hand moving again to his waist, lower back, the curve of his thighs - Baekhyun grins against his lips and pushes lightly with a hand on his chest.

“You have a manager to go keep up with.” He says, gently breaking away fully this time, sliding off his lap to stand. He hates to admit he’s suddenly cold now, already misses that cocoon of warmth, and by the annoyed pout on the musician’s lips - he does too. Chanyeol eventually groans and stands.

“Fine, fine I’ll get out.” He trudges over to put his guitar back in its case like a moody teenager. Baekhyun laughs and pinches his side as he skips over to occupy himself with putting the piano carefully to sleep. He hands Chanyeol his notebook, and the two help each other put things away with only sly, playful pinches and flicks.

By the time everything is ready, Chanyeol has put on his shoes and Baekhyun has opened the door, there’s that departing dread which has sunk its teeth into their skin.

“Well, good luck with your diet, big man; make them all go blind to go buy your albums.”

“The album where your voice will be.” He tilts Baekhyun’s head by a finger on his chin, “And they’ll buy everything for the hot musician who’s already taken by that beautiful voice in their headphones.” He whispers, kissing Baekhyun soft.

It’s a declaration, a promise, and Baekhyun’s head is spinning with Chanyeol’s skin, his touch, his kiss, his cologne, his voice. It promises fires, and something more exposed than he’d realized; and suddenly he’s a bit scared.  
The straight, handsome idol, kissed a man. The beautiful musician held him like a flower; kissed him like a lilly, and smiled into his neck like a rose. Baekhyun only wished there weren’t any thorns.

Chanyeol notices his silence, and pulls away with a careful expression. His fingers thread through his hair, and Baekhyun holds his other hand on his cheek.

“Guess this is what Sehun and Kai were talking about… risking it all.”

Chanyeol shakes his head with a smile. “Apart from my sexuality, we’re not risking anything yet.” He kisses Baekhyun’s forehead, “Don’t worry about anything yet. Just come sing with me, and let’s have fun okay?”

Baekhyun nods, a little more reassured. Chanyeol leans down to kiss him one last time, melting sugar on Baekhyun’s tongue for a lifetime.

They break apart and Chanyeol says goodbye, stepping past the doorway. He turns around, and something about seeing his tall frame starting to walk down the corridor makes Baekhyun snap. He immediately catches up to him, turns him around by the shoulder - narrowly missing the guitar case on his back - grabs him by the collar and pulls him down for a hard kiss.

Chanyeol gasps against his mouth, then chuckles, but Baekhyun finds himself suddenly stubborn; shoving his thigh between the latter's for a hard grind, earning a surprised moan, quick hands on his ass to pull him closer. It’s hot, heavy and deep, and Chanyeol finally breaks away for some air, looking a little bewildered and breathless.

“Hallways are hot, but my recording room is better.” He nips at Baekhyun’s neck, breathing into his ear when the latter lets out a whine, “Soundproof.”

Baekhyun feels flames grow hotter and more desperate in his guts at the idea, but he’s also aware that he’s also desperate to make Chanyeol stay. But he has to go.

“Please…” Baekhyun breathes into his neck, hand curled at the collar. He doesn’t know what he wants, what he needs, but Chanyeol somehow understands everything, somehow can be the only one to know to gently rub at his waist and whisper against his lips.

“I promise.”

Baekhyun laces their fingers together, kisses each knuckle goodbye, kisses his beautiful musician goodbye, and he blinks and all he’s left with is a lingering warmth on his waist, a lingering promise on his lips and the sound of the elevator doors closing on a tall, sad smile.

_“Promise”_

 

\-------------------------

 

It’s mid December and the Juun J. office has never gleamed more brilliantly from all the Fashion Week profits, the happy investors and positive energy radiating throughout the building. Even the windows seem to have a crystal sheen, the plants perked up, happy flowers turned to the grey winter sun as though it were summer. Jongin admires the view of it all from the conference desk as the intern, Minghao, sets up the paper board for moments of improvised schemes, and the official presentation projected on the wall.

When the board streams in, they all shake hands, greeting the CEO with sincere smiles, passing questions about his personal life - each too caught up in their own new Vuitton bag to really care about how the other person was doing in their life - but at least they were happy. October had gone well, and each business advisor, finance manager, and top contacts took their seats - all were proud to be sitting at the table with the man who had dinner with Michael Burke, who made headlines within seconds of his innovative designs, who could promise them all a safe trip to a rich havana. It’s a pretty illusion, Jongin figures. If they can stay happy with him all the way through Paris fashion week, keep that same team spirit strong for the collaboration with his “rival”, it’ll save all of them a whole lot of loss. So, he needs to gain their complete confidence. Through sickness and through health, they had better stay with him; because divorce is a bitch to pay up.

“Thank you for coming to this meeting today.” Jongin flashes his best smile. “Juun J. has seen it’s best stocks after October - and things are only going to get better for our image with Paris in March, and a collaboration with a special rising company later in June.” There’s a slight stir at the mention of a ‘special’ rising company - choice words - but Jongin carries on.

“Paris shall be discussed next week, as you all know, because it takes much longer to design things to work with another style, than it is to create our best outfits.” Minghao clicks to the first slide; pictures from years ago, on the company’s first collaboration.

“Juun J. has had several collaborations in the past; starting from the famous genderless Heta, to the exclusively female KYE as well as Kuho. Our most recent collaborations have been exclusively female, so logically our next step should be either unisex or male.” Jongin takes a small breath - now, came the delicate part. Justifying his choice of brand in a somewhat objective manner.

“Nohant is a new company, but in less than two years has gained enormous popularity with the idols, as well as streetwear, and would maybe boost our image to the newest, fashionable generation. Unfortunately, the media has created a rather rocky image behind the fashion success; and I’ll be the first to admit it was my fault, and I’d like to present my excuses once again to you all. My mouth caused more than a couple worries for this company as well as his. We decided to team up during the last couple months to straighten things out and hopefully clean up our image together - especially since Nohant is a fresher company, it’s harder on his stocks more than it is on ours-”

“Excuse me sir, but when you say ‘his’ ; you’re referring to Nohant’s CEO, Oh Sehun, right?” Some new investor interrupts.

“Of course.” Kibum answers for him, a slight smirk on his lips.

Jongin burns with momentary shame. “Yes, pardon my imprecision.”

The investor settles back in his seat with an impossible simper, and Jongin is about to finish his wild defense on his completely personal choice - when the modeling agent raises her hand.

“I find Nohant’s style to be too different from Juun J.’s to be able to make anything with it.”

Jongin never liked her, to be honest. He chuckles. “Of course, I have to start with how it’s possible and how it’s going to sell.” He goes over to Minghao to ask for various pictures of Nohant’s fashion weeks, and gestures for Kibum to come up to present the more fashion side of things; one thing about trust, is having experts to back you up.

“You must be thinking of their spring collection two years ago; very hip-hop, more streetwear than luxury. If I had seen this show, I wouldn’t have spared it a second glance either.” Kibum waves his hand with an unimpressed frown, and Minghao clicks to the next slide; Nohant’s open-house runway.

Here, Kibum shows a little more interest. “Their style that month was somewhere in between; you can see the silk jackets starting to show, a bit more class mixed with modern simplicity. It’s just the beginning of their affirmation as a brand, but it’s off to a rather good start. This open-house made headlines, and got a breaking record amount of Livestreams; thanks to their connections with idols who also modeled for them.” Jongin thanks his lucky stars to have someone as put-together as Kibum on his side. The designer finishes by presenting the last slide.

“And here, was their fashion week in October - in case you missed it. They managed to find the perfect balance between modern streetwear and luxurious simplicity. One editor praised them as following Chanel’s quote of ‘Luxury must be comfortable, otherwise it is not luxury’. Here, they showcased a remarkable Parisian style - maybe thanks to Burke’s appearance - showing something comfortable, chic, as well as a touch of something a little more edgy.”

Jongin finally steps in to link the two. “Juun J.’s biggest critique has always been that our clothes don’t appeal enough to the younger generation, or that they aren’t practical enough to wear at all. A collaboration with a company who’s famous for just that could help us with a new side of things, offer and surprise new clients for a broader spectrum. And on their side, we, as a stable and well-reputed brand, can give them tips on how to bring Seoul fashion to the world.”

There’s a nodding silence, and the modelling agent frowns. “And why should we give them our secrets on how to grow and expand? They’re still our competition.”

“Because, Kyuna, competition only gets you bad mouths, and negative images. This is one of the worst industries for that, I know, but sometimes it’s better to remember what we’re here for; Fashion. Fashion is an art. It’s an art which is almost as diverse as music; so many different colors, genres, styles, it’s a huge mess, and we’ll spit on eachother for it and all try to get the magazine headline first, but at the end of the day, we’re all in it for the form of expression. We express our culture, our passions, our moods and thoughts through clothes like a painter does with canvas, like a musician does with his guitar - and each individual fashion house deserves to be heard, and deserves to express their passion and culture through their clothes.

“Do you know how I managed to land a spot at Paris fashion week; in a country so far and so different from ours? Because of contacts. Because there were people, dignified, so stable and sure in their art that they didn’t need to be jealous of anyone else. They only see the pure fashion, the raw expression which we have to show; and they want others to experience it too; to broaden their vision onto a new world. It’s Korea’s turn to speak and it can only be heard if you push aside all the media, all the competition, all the images because fashion is an experience, and it’s beautiful, but you can only truly see it and succeed if you live it together.” Jongin lets himself breathe at the end, but a newfound pride swelling in his chest at his own words, and the pleasing reaction of surprised, and satisfied smiles.

“I hope you’re convinced, Kyuna.” Kibum looks down at her with a slight smirk curling his lips. The agent sucks in a breath, but gives a curt nod.

“If you’re worried about the model’s comfort; I’m sure you can ask Jaehyun or Jun - they both modeled for the collaboration with KYE if I’m not wrong - how they felt with the style, the comfort, and the clothes.” Kibum does reassure her a bit before Jongin claps his hands together.

“Yes, now, all that said and done, do I have everybody’s consent to move ahead with a June summer collaboration with Nohant?”

He looks at each person seated at the table, asks for their heartfelt opinion on the matter. Some do look a bit hesitant, but are quick to sigh and smile, say they trust their CEO. Bingo. One two, three - all around the table; ending on Kibum and Minghao who rushes out in a surprised murmur how he thinks it’ll be well received by the public. God how Jongin hope so. Still, he can’t help the happiness which sparks his fingers at the official deal; he’s going to work with Sehun.

With a cheek-splitting grin, he opens his arms as though to hug all the members around the table. “Thank you! Well, if you don’t mind then, we can get started on simple outfit outlines now, Kibum - and start contacting Nohant to plan exact meetings to match up ideas and such.” He turns to Minghao who’s already ready at hand. “I need the entire design team here in 20 minutes with the final plans for Paris; fabrics are supposed to be shipped out next week anyways - so we can separate the fall-winter collection from the collab, and start the outlines to send to Nohant.”

Minghao nods, memorizing the order before ducking out the door to complete the mission. Jongin turns back to his crowd and smiles one last time. “Thank you all for coming today, even if it was short, I’m glad we managed to all agree to the point. If there are any problems regarding anything from Christmas sales to other issues, please feel free to stay and inform me. If everyone is satisfied, I can call this meeting to an end.”

Most of them get up, shake his hand and take their leave. A few stay and ask him about the winter decorations around the building, or if there were any plans to change the annual christmas party. He was expecting more serious matters such as another illness in the factory, or hell even a bad editor’s magazine - but visibly, all was well in Juun J.’s little world.

Once the designers filter in with all their papers and tilting cappuccinos, Jongin feels like he can finally relax in his favorite trance of lines, photos, colors and materials. It’s like a sort of aesthetic trance more than work, enough to suck up all his time from 30 minutes to three hours. They all talk about their experiences with the cold, and how this certain jacket would sell well, how comfortable and chic it is for fall.

Slowly, Jongin gets them to transition from winter to summer once he’s fully satisfied with the designs and promising outfits for the french runway mid-January. He gets them to talk more light, feathering stuff; chiffon material and cotton shorts. Minghao somehow managed to dig up the lookbooks of their past collaborations to refresh their ideas on how it all works. By the end of the day, the design bureau had been turned upside down in a mayhem of sketches, new ideas to work with Nohant’s particular slim style beginning to emerge like a small flower, and the Paris designs to be extravagant.

“So, the orders will be sent to the factory tomorrow, and all the fabrics will be shipped out and will be put to work next week. Modeling runs and shoots will be end of December - to avoid a huge cram beginning January. Everything has to be set by January 7th.” Jongin affirms for the Paris week, and all the designers nod, some hiding their yawns. It was rather past office hours and Jongin apologizes. “That’s all everybody. Thank you so much for today, you’re a great team, stay fresh for tomorrow!”

All the employers wave goodbye and within five minutes the place is empty, save for the smell of paper and coffee crisp on his shirt as he and Kibum finally sigh, exhausted yet satisfied, with their work.

“That was an impressive speech you gave back there. I’m almost sad I didn’t record it.” Kibum smiles and Jongin laughs.

“I surprised myself. Turned out better than I thought it would. I’m just glad it convinced them.”

“Glad you get to work with Mr. Oh now, more importantly.” Kibum winks and Jongin shoves his shoulder.

“You know too much.”

“I dare you to tell me that you two aren’t dating and planning to go public after this collab.”

Jongin halts. He expects the heart in his chest to jump out, seize, do terrifying flips - but instead, it’s only a small surprise. He’s comfortable. He owns up to it. The realization draws a smile on his lips.

“I never do dares.”

Kibum grins and slaps the back of his head. “Ah you little bugger. You’re too cute. And not very discreet. But I guess it dampens the shock.” He hums and seems to think about something. “But do you honestly believe your own words then at the conference? Or is this purely out of personal interest?” It’s an open question; without any judgement - yet.

“I really don’t think I can say something that profound off the top of my head without believing it. I’m always passionate about fashion, and I definitely do believe in its universal language, and how it can only be a benefit to our country, to our culture if we’re able to show our talents and voice through fashion. The more companies who can do it; the better. We’re the first in the industry to land a spot at Paris Fashion Week, so I really don’t think it’s of use to be jealous and petty anymore; we’ve basically won them all.” Kibum smiles at that and Jongin blushes. “Nohant really does have the talent, and Sehun has been getting a lot of good contacts outside of the country to boost him to the top - and I love him so a collaboration with us would enforce his image, give his company the best of success, and that’s all I wish for him because he deserves it.”

Kibum chuckles. “A little biased there, but I do see your point.”

“They don’t have to know that just yet.” Jongin winks and Kibum shakes his head.

“Wow, you two really are a pair, huh. I’m all for your side - I’ve always been - but you do know you both have to be careful, still.”

“It’s not easy, I know. But we’ll give it our best shot. And besides, we’re better than korean standards; we’re going to Paris baby.”

Kibum grins and they do a handshake, finishing with a hug. “Oh how I’m lucky to have such a humble CEO.” Kibum jokes.

“And I have the smartest designer in town.” Jongin ruffles his hair.

“Speaking of CEOs, don’t you have your own to call about a certain collaboration?”

Jongin checks the time. 7pm, Sehun might answer if he’s not having dinner. “I love you, Key, but I’m not calling him in front of you yet.”

Kibum rolls his eyes. “Fine, don’t call your boyfriend, and come out and have dinner with your hot designer instead.” he says, throwing a flirtatious wink.

Jongin raises a brow. “I hope you’re not expecting me to say no because I’m chained to a jealous boyfriend.”

“I never said that.” Kibum pouts, innocent.

“I’d love to have dinner with my colleague.” Jongin grins.

Kibum sticks out his tongue and skips out of the room. “Good because I’m hungry. I’m thinking french dishes?”

“I’m definitely in.” Jongin gets up, grabbing his coat and bag from his office, and the two happily go out for dinner in a lovely fake brasserie in town. They both indulge on some champagne and crême brulée, Kibum begging for Jongin to take pictures of him to send to Sehun for a glimpse of a jealous boyfriend; his favorite entertainment.

Eventually, Jongin does take a picture - and he’ll be the first to admit his designer is rather elegant, sipping a glass of sparkling alcohol, his jawline finely defined in the candle shadow. He sends it because of course, jealous Sehun is also his favorite Sehun - but for Kibum, all he needs to know is that now that he’s sent a picture, he owes his CEO the bill.

 

Stomach and wallet still properly full, Jongin gets home in the best of moods, calling his favorite number as he lays on his bed, his small poodle curls into his side.

_**“Well well, how was dinner?”** _

“Perfect actually; we went to that nice french restaurant, had crème brûlée and champagne. He paid.” Jongin grins, but what he doesn’t expect is the sudden silence, followed by a dry laugh on the other end.

_**“Glad you two had fun.”** _

“Are you seriously jealous?” Jongin asks cautiously.

 ** _“I know it was Kibum, Jongin. God, as though i’d ever believe you would chest on me with your most trustworthy colleague. I’m not jealous of him.”_** he hears him take a deep breath on the other end.

“But…?”

_**“I don’t know it just… hurt to see everybody else be able to go out with you, completely normal and everything… I know it’s stupid and small and I know it’ll be over soon but for now some things just hurt still… whatever, it’s nothing - forget about it.”** _

Jongin feels his heart tear a little at Sehun’s defeated confession. He wants to apologize and say the same thing he’s been saying for the past months, but he knows Sehun is probably sick of hearing it.

“Well, I was going to call you to ask if we could start planning meetings for the collaboration. We got a couple good outlines today and I want to see how we can match up as soon as possible; it’ll take their minds off Paris for a few days, at least.”

 ** _“Always the efficient businessman.”_** Sehun says, and Jongin is relieved at the more upbeat tone in his voice. _**“I’m going to hold my conference on it tomorrow. Our employees might not be busy for a Paris fashion week, but are just starting to get into the Christmas orders and everything - I can only hope they take the collaboration well.”**_

“It was a close call for me at first; everybody on the board were still fresh out of the fashion week success, they had their noses turned up a little at the thought of collaborating with a new streetwear brand - no offense.”

 ** _“Well we’ll see how eager my team is to have to deal with a bunch of haute couture fashion snobs.”_ **Sehun laughs.

“I managed to bring them down to earth with a long speech about fashion and competition to convince them - I sounded like a president. Maybe you could take a couple notes from me.”

**_“Maybe you can keep dreaming, Mr. Kim.”_ **

“I don’t need to dream to see your employees’ faces when they hear they get to collaborate with Korea’s most innovative and international fashion house.” Jongin smirks.

**_“You’ve paraded that title like a trophy for god knows how long. Humility isn’t one of your qualities.”_ **

“I can’t be humble face with my rival; then things wouldn’t be fun anymore would they?”

**_“True. By the way, don’t think your precious title is praised by everyone at my company either.”_ **

“Jealous, baby. They should thank me for bringing you into the dangerous world.”

**_“Worth it.”_ **

They laugh together. “So when can our two teams meet up to start things?”

Sehun hums on the line. **_“I have to check, but I think we’re kind of busy this week, let’s see… I can do next Tuesday?”_**

“Tuesday works. I’ll ask my team what time works for them, but for now let’s say lunch to start things off nice and easy?”

**_“Lunch might be a bit too direct, don’t you think?”_ **

“Our past collaborations have always been with higher brands, and we would usually start off with a casual meeting ; and in this case in particular, I think a more neutral ground would be best. If we start off with a conference in either your or my office, it’ll be a little more pressure on the arriving brand.”

**_“Alright, fair enough; lunch it is. When do your employees get off work?”_ **

“It varies, but I think the design team in particular get off at 12.”

_**“Okay, I’ll reserve a restaurant then.”** _

Jongin nods and lets slip a yawn - which he’s too late to cover up before Sehun laughs on the phone. **_“I’ll email you. Get some rest tonight.”_**

“Fine.” Jongin whines, burying his head in his tiny poodle’s fur. “Guess that gives me more time to dream of working with you.”

Sehun clicks his tongue. ** _“Not a dream soon.”_**

“Goodnight, Mr. Oh.”

**_“Sleep tight, babe.”_ **

Jongin laughs and they both exchange gushy “I love you”s, before Jongin hangs up to let himself fall into a peaceful sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright I hope you enjoyed these two chapter updates! I know this took a while to post, and I'm afraid to announce the next update might not be any sooner, seeing the coming end-of-the-year exams and hopefully more parties on the weekend haha but I will do my best to write during that time! As you can see, it's almost finished, and I finally have things planned out in my head to make things quicker, so please stay with me and Sehun and Kai here and I hope you'll enjoy the ending! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooo I hope you enjoyed this first chapter! I was really hyped to write CEO sekai because Kinks uhhhhh,,, I was however, worried about the fashion side of things since it was a pretty alien area for me, but I do hope I managed to respect the basics of the industry and render things interesting!
> 
> I've been working on this fic for a solid year so it's really long and I'm struggling to finish the final chapter what with specifics about Korean society, Fashion, and business, so please don't hesitate to comment your ideas and thoughts about possible endings! Thank you and I hope you enjoy this read for their wit, sass and sex ;)


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